'4 t • » 

; .t » - 


• Ji ^ . M vi. • 

;5frl V 

^ t 


:' ' > 
- '> 

- ■ i- i 

ri 

% -r t 

I 4 

tv ' • 

V tfl 

!?• 

fV 

Ji- « :a 




■u 




-V ^ti 

\h 

'%. •*• 

* 4 ; 

i'* 

*. ,• 

r V V 

u- 

:1^ 

r j ^ 

■-:; *.'■./ 1, 

» *.< -.7 


K 


n 


^ ‘4 

• ^ ,4 A 
»* ‘. % *4 

. ji . W 

*: ‘I * 4 t 

\i\U\ 

'i: 
t':-' 

';.j^ 

^ J '■: 


^ Wl . 

>■* '• 4^ 


" -a t!"* * 


^ '< ■'* . 

^* * . r « 

'< ..« - 


' i. ! J 

1 . f . I 

I ;■> «t 

'J '•’ .-, V 

-4 I 1 


1 t 

• » 

4 «< 


* . * » 
f ; 


■ »• ;. V * 


* 7* 4 > . 
9% ^ i ^ 

flK'-f 


?.f; 


' r *1 

) in 


«?ft4 




• 3» 4 > ? 


«?v: 


J. 4 i Ti. 

<* t 

v:*l I*: 


rC.4 




^ ' -■ ti 

•m' 


K ■ 


C-:\ 

,1 < t j 

;,v 

/ • 3 


y •' •• r 

4. • i '■. 


^ ^ • 4 

I 4 -1 . 

^ t < 


n;, 

\ ‘ 4 ^ 


tk*. * 

4 * • 


yn,; ' ri.fv, 


V' ^ 4 

f* * . 

■ 

•? k ^ I .. 

*' f • k ' 

^ I -y ♦ * 

1 ' m I . « 


i* < .-f 

I ; 

« < ' » 

*4 31 4 - ^ : 

*> » 5 * 

V « 4 


^ V V i 

• 4 .\ ? 

' t 

1^4^ 

V•^ •' .? 

. < 4 .1 

;- » ♦ 

^ V r 

•■ .; J } 

• ;«4 


V !» 

T.i? 


- -9 * 


4 >? ? • -^C V ’ ' 

• k • •• ‘. <1 r. ij ; • 

A » • t . 

4 < » 


- . 4 

^ • 4 ., 

^ . * 

; .%.\ ^ 


•, ; ■,( "!• 


^ 

4 «• 

5'V ■' 

%« I \ 




• ,< 

r »* 

i 

■' '4 «4 


■f •• i-' 

nh-,^ 

i ' r \ ; 


.- j ; '. 

f -S 

•■? ’ A 


'r.f' 




% ¥ ■ W 

i' fl} 

A V i • 1 W 

♦ -4 »• 


nn 

i » <1 'v* 

i .. -y 
v.t: i ? 


•\\?u 


f • V ! 


:\n 
’ jj > 

’ 4 i 


4*0^* 

T* * 

• \ 

i Si, # 1 

1^1^ 




V ^ -» » 

Vi 


\ i f ‘'•1 V * 

V'.>;( 

• y 






^ -'V*i 7 ' ? 




' ' ** ’t » J 

.tv yi 


it ; 4 

i:]< i^- 
7 It? 




i^'^ 


> ^ > 
4 . I .r 

r',4 

U » j 
^ g 


#'• if 


r .• . :,-.r -', ..'^ I* 

'. V ✓ ^ 


*. '*4 / 4* '* 

■ i i [ i 


4 i* ' J 1 ¥. i 

,-s r n •» i . ' * 

{ - i* y • 7 < f» ' 
K .< f t /kT V 


b • » '1 / 4 y 4 

• r •' 4 .' ; ^/'^ 

!- 

^ v ^ 


/ ^ 

; 4 ^ V « 7 ^ M, 

» i' *> .. < .‘ ^ 4 


i ^ 4' U 

I j r . iir * 


tV ' i ‘ ' 4 ■ •! 

S < V* »< ^ 


k* >4 

Vi • / »% V 4 * '• 4 

y • 4 y ^ ^ • 

^ ft ' ,r4 'Vi ‘ 

i . H «li /i 4 

« V 4# .a ' . ^. 


; • >¥ .,4j- * \ 

i .* •/ 1% 4 , i\ . V 

^ 7 • 1 • 

* < :*4 . 4 t 


**4*4 ‘4 t 

*' t • 1 V ‘ I 
^ y '4 ,• 4 i • 

♦ •i V -; ' .‘4^4 


r ' -‘ * • • 

) \ - 4 4 1’ <♦ 1**.- j* 

'''^y 1 r- « 

< j 'f ' 4 V .* ; 4 

Vl ^ . •*. t -» I . 

# ( • 1 i • f 4 

i i ;?i ^t,i .J4 


7 1 r ft sAii ■^% 

^ -* a I .* u /ft 
- y * « ; I , 4 I 

4 r3 t . • 4^ . 4 


• » <* 4 -at t i , % 

7: 

V*- .'''•:-Y‘-i"y. 

ji‘f'-n5>'-- 

* • f l» •! 


< •'•14 • ?* 1 

I . 4 ‘^.4 4 

' i > / ■ M 

I i » 4 ,4 . » • 

• « V ^♦. 

t 

, V t 4 * ' • 

I - • it • i . ^ 

ill ^1 f 

• \ 1 i k ' 

*. * k 4 , ft • » 

4 *7 4.1 4 

• i . A' 4 .*4 . • 

' « I ♦ • ^ I 

; ' ‘ V , J <4 

i 't n i « 

i \'f'y . 

I J4 . il 4 . 

’it ♦ 4 .4 

4 »» ^ 4 II 

.( V 1 I i I • • 

• / ‘ -■? ••■. • r 

• y ;. 

I T i • 4 4 

» • r V • 4 

I 4 


^ ’ i ‘ 4 4 y / 

» ,1 . t • i ^ 

V . ^ . •. J* . ♦ 


y M* • * * I t *■ 

V;ft ‘4. ' 4 » 

4 wi VI ,M ^ 
» «' • . ^ ; 

I .*> ’ i*. , *.t 

r* rr' 

9’ 4 J » . > ; I A 9 


t ^•' y ‘ V’ I 

</ '. i' nv';,7'.. 

« « f r a. I 1 ft 

^ > j*' « *f /-'.7 

*• y ' r 

? : r ? • 


y i'y;. :• ' 

.■'7* i\-\; 


'■ ' • 1 •• » I ■ 

» ♦ > . r 
.■■•-• fc ; I ' 

‘ < , A I ' 

y } ’ » *' n I 

j t i 4 .1^ . •• 


I * v .*^'y :.? 


*1 M V/ . 

t -• 1 T \ f ,1 { 
> * 7 • • > * , I .* 

yrisV' 




pps 

75ii'x?AVA'' 

1^0 I ft n 


1^0 I ft I 

>V -- 4 ft . 4 

• I • t • ft » f 

i : . 4 .'• ft , ft 

•t I*. -4 •. ft 

il • ^ 1 ft » .1 # 


:i • ^ 1 ft » .1 # 

I ; r - 1' * . i 

/’-/'m'VY’V 

.. * ? ' ;» ‘ > f 


- ■♦ I ' I 1 


f-: 


•'.Aft W 


I .W 
‘ ... f ^ 




A 


/ » » 
;: / ■ I 
/ / »' 
i J'r'f 


r;A j 
ii<y; 

^ t i.. 

4 -M 1 V . 






7'-,{ 


n; 


•* ft 

r;i 
V'? i 




»i *'• 


.r«, y 


r'4 1 

</ .. I 


/T-i- 

<l • 

■i>: 


. ft? ^ 

14 Vft 

•f ; 


/ -\ii 

fit 
4^^ i 


ft 7 .« 

r,-4' 
I ‘ I 
4’i^' 

-\’r 

I 'Ii4 


4 ‘ V' 


1 i ^ I 
*f . % : 


J/f. 

r/.v^ 


«rt .a 


/>y-. 


4 .v% r , 

vv-A 

.rtf'? 


^ Z -• • -A I « • 

1 ,^'4 ril j > ;t » 


■ t \ 
•4^3 

4 4 • ^ 

•« • 1 

I *•. ft » 
.1 • 

i?;.? 

ft T - 1 

’ % 

9 fi ^ 

r* 7't. 

< ft ftt 1 
4 » ft 

I - f ' » 4» f 
* ft a • . * .^ 
ft .. t ^ ' 


nfN; ! ; 


*1 ^ t ; } s 

li'* a V 

- < ' ♦ ‘ 

* < * .4 ft A» * 
ft ) V 9 •* 
4 I .4 • v.tf i 
- \ y % -t % ^ 
4 - 4 j X 

:.?if 
ft.ni 




• 1 *^ 
.?« 1 ^ 1 


t5' 






































VI 







k. ^ <X ^ ^ C5v. ^ <<• y, 


^ 0 X, \ .A 

.A' . 0 ^ (• p 

<=> .A ^ 

rf- " 

A. 

’'/n ^ 


'^o 0^ 


^ 0 

c^ •< 







<<. 

® L 

<r 

>.° 


>- 'I 




<. '^0^ 


'€' 




o> ^ ^C‘ V 

A*^ " r 5? ^ ^ 

* \ ,xv . r _ 

t, v/ '^- 

. ^' ■ * ■■ 


^ o „ 







3 0.. 



* " ' • '' ' ik^'' •" '■ V ■i r V V 


<» 

* At, • ®|P - oV^ 




o o' 




' v^ « 


9:> ' " rf^A A "v „ 

. ' \y s''"' ’„ > 

\. ^~ 


'Kr 


^ , :s O ^ ^0 

.0^ 9-'" 

^ .i>- ^ ^ 'Cr' A, < 

:mh% A>/ 

" a\ \oN 





,V ./ 


f , V 1 8 ^ A<;p 

V. ^ ^ 



^ ^ '‘r. '^. 

'%j\‘ ‘ 

IM/ ' >^ - Z 

7^ c X> 


* xO°^. 

^ ^ O K O ^ * ' 



ik V 



'' '' V ’• 8 ^ 

.-0^ " ^ ^ 


rP* - 


0 


f' 

kT <>^ \ 


0^ 

A/ > .0^ ,-' C‘ 

c,^ **' ^^%J)hi ° <'C^ 

® ■i6'^i^\K" •»> 



A^' 

\V 

A .' 


% -i 


^ 0 V 


^ 0 9 X ‘ \ 


i0°<. 


i/'^ sC- 

o *" > ■ , t> ^ 

-/- ® 8 1 ' V V. o 

VOO^ •^. V^'^V, 

5 :^.% '^. ,V ^ 

. ® 


o 
















A PINCHBECK GODDESS 



MRS. J. M. FLEMING 
(ALICE M^ KIPLING) 


“ All with one consent praise new-born gawds, 
Though they are made and moulded of things past, 
And give to dust that is a little gilt 
More laud than gilt o’er-dusted.” 

Shakespeare. 




D. APPLETON AND 

1897 


COMPANY 






y (£> 


2 . 0 ? 


?p 


Copyright, 1897, 

By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 


TO 

MY BROTHER 


“ Rudyard, as lesser dames to great ones use, 

My lighter comes to kiss thy learnM muse ; 
Whose better studies while she emulates, 

She learns to know long difference of their states. 
Yet is the office not to be despised, 

If only love should make the action prized.” 

Ben Jonson. 







, < 


v. 

>- 1 ? 

v: 

I-' 


V:. 




I 





# • • 




I ' 






f 







I 


Sf 



t « 









> • 


*1 

» 

i 

«J 


I . 

f 

•7" 

.♦ . 





« 

%* ** 




, -tf 




i» • 







I 





ft 


♦ • 

1 


/ 

mf . 


ft 


\ 


i 




* 


\ 



i 


« 


\ 




i 






I 


<• . . 


ft 


■•f, 



«>4 




/ 



•» 
* 4 



« 




t 



k 


I 




f - 



1 

*■ . 




k 



t 

I; 



. » 




r/ 




A- 


* 


I 




I 



k 

» 


« 


/• 



• 


I 



« 


« 




I 


ft 


» 

I 

I 

'v * ^ 


ft 


I ft* 


*> 




« 


/ 




ft 


ft 





% 

t 


ft I 


f\. 


i 


% » 


F* 



I 


ft 




» 



V 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

Prologue — “ Days that are over, dreams that 

ARE done” ^ 

I. — “New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill’ . 

II. — “ Who’s that a-calling so sweet ? ” . 

III. — “ A LITTLE TALKING OF OUTWARD THINGS ” . 

IV. — “A SUNSHINY WORLD FULL OF LAUGHTER AND 

LEISURE ” 

V. — “ Lamps above and laughs below ”... 

VI. — “ More white and red than doves or roses 

VII. — “ Away, away to thy sad and silent home ” . 

VIII. — “ Was a lady, such a lady, cheeks so round 

AND LIPS so RED ! ” 

IX. — “ Light-locked with eyes of dangerous gray ” . 

X. — “ Black’s the life that I lead wi’ you ” . 

XI. — “With cheeks all red, and golden locks all 

CURLED ” 

XII.— “Then the good minute goes” . . . . 

XIII. — “ Bid that heart stay, and it shall stay ” . 

XIV. — “ Once a boy a rose espied ” .... 


PAGE 

I 

20 

30 

44 

52 

67 

80 

91 

lOI 

III 

127 

141 

159 

174 

190 


Vll 


CONTENTS. 


viii 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XV. — “That thou art blamed shall not be thy 

DEFECT ” 206 

XVI. — “ Whose feet do tread green paths of youth 

AND love” 222 


XVII. — “O life! how dear hast thou become!” . 240 
XVIII. — “ My life, what strange, mad garments hast 

THOU ON?” 256 

XIX. — “ So THOU BUT love ME WITH A PERFECT 


HEART 


275 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


PROLOGUE. 

DAYS THAT ARE OVER, DREAMS THAT ARE DONE/* 

“ Face fallen and white throat lifted, 

With sleepless eye 
She sees old loves that drifted, 

She knew not why ; 

Old loves and faded fears 
Float down a stream that hears 
The flowing of all men’s tears beneath the sky.” 

A. C. Swinburne. 

Madeline Norton had been trying to write let- 
ters in the saloon after dinner, but the jangle of 
a much-travelled piano and the heavy stamp of 
dancing feet on the deck above her head made 
consecutive thought impossible. The great 
steamer was going slowly through the Suez Ca- 
nal; the 4)ulsation of her screw in the smooth 
water was like the beating of a very tired giant’s 
heart. Although it was a December night, the 
air was close and warm, and the smell of dinner 
lingered unpleasantly in the saloon. Madeline 
went up on deck with quiet, undecided feet. 

The romping polka was over, and the flushed 
and heated dancers sat dispersed among the shad- 

I 


2 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


ows, or leaned against the bulwarks laughing and 
talking; no one spoke to her as she made her 
way to a quiet nook and watched the broad 
stream of electric light that gushed from the 
prow of the steamer. 

This strong crude light held apart from the 
silver flood poured down by the full moon over- 
head, and was painfully theatrical in comparison. 
When the machine-made rays fell on the sand- 
banks on either hand, they were at once shorn 
of the glamour and glory the moon had lent 
them, and became barely, badly hideous, .unre- 
deemed by either colour or contour. A momen- 
tary effect, for even as Madeline watched they 
glided back into beauty, the moon resumed her 
sway, while the next hillock ahead was disen- 
chanted, its irregular outline and a few poor lep- 
rous plants cruelly emphasized. She looked 
back, and behind them the sand-hills lay glori- 
fied and splendid, ranges of shapes of pearl be- 
neath the lavish silver moon. A string of camels, 
roped nose to tail, festooned like a decorative 
frieze against the pale sky; the tall, soft-footed 
creatures looped along with the leisurely, reluc- 
tant shuffle that has never willingly quickened 
since the slow descent from Mount Ararat. 

Attracted by the music, two dusky shapes 
were running heavily along the sandy shore, call- 
ing for alms with shrill persistence. The bewil- 
dering light prevented Madeline from seeing if 
they were women or children; they were slender 
muffled forms with sharp, thin voices. 


DAYS THAT ARE OVER. 


3 


A lean shadow sped inland howling — a high- 
pitched howl like a scream. Dog, jackal, wolf, 
or unclean demon of the night? 

Madeline shuddered, and turned to look along 
the familiar deck. She saw the broad-shouldered 
figure of the captain pacing to and fro, and knew 
from his hearty laugh that the little lady he was 
talking to had said something amusing. 

Rosie Thurlow, the prettiest girl on board, 
her fair hair unshielded from the night breeze, 
and her fair face in a most becoming ray of moon- 
light, was talking to one man and looking at 
another. Madeline was the only woman who sat 
alone; she felt lonely and neglected in the quiet 
place she had chosen. 

The jangling piano trembled under the strong 
fingers of the ship’s doctor, and the rollicking 
insistence of ‘‘ Sir Roger de Coverley ” drowned 
the weary begging voices from the bank. The 
music that had been intolerable to Madeline while 
she sat in the saloon was almost alluring in the 
open air. Her feet beat time to the oft-repeated 
measure, and she half rose, with the unformulated 
thought that if she stood near the lamp in the 
companion she might perhaps get a partner. A 
quick revulsion of feeling sent her deeper into the 
shadows. 

“At your age!” she said, half aloud. She 
possessed several scourges for self-chastisement, 
and one of them was the fact that she would be' 
thirty years old on her next birthday. She took 
some pains to accustom herself to this stern 


4 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


truth, for it often seemed to her that she had 
missed her youth, that she had become a woman 
without having been a girl. 

A man came briskly towards her, saying, 
“ Our dance, I think? ” Then, as she looked up. 
Oh, I beg your pardon. Miss Norton; thought 
you were Mrs. Woods! ” 

Who has ever seen Mrs. Woods sitting alone 
in a corner? ” she asked a little bitterly; but he 
did not wait to answer her. 

Madeline Norton was a slender woman with a 
face of possibilities, but most of the possibilities 
were thwarted ones, for a spirit of perverseness 
seemed to preside over her toilet. Her wavy dark 
hair was brushed flatly from her brow, and packed 
into a tight knot; she rarely smiled enough for 
people to know that she had charming teeth, and 
she dressed in the colours that were least becom- 
ing to her clear, pale complexion. But no mis- 
placed ingenuity could disguise the delicate out- 
line of her profile, or the beauty of her gray eyes, 
with their curling black lashes. 

La — la — la. Dee — dum — dee — diddety. Did- 
dety — dum — dee. Dee — dee — dee, shrilled the 
jangling piano again and again, faster and faster 
flew the dancing feet, while Madeline contem- 
plated her past, her present, and her future, won- 
dering which was the most dreary. Meditating 
in the pale light to the music of a dance she had 
not been asked to join, she felt that she had little 
to remember with pleasure, and much to recall 
with regret — many apprehensions for the future 


DAYS THAT ARE OVER. 


5 


without one joyful anticipation. She knew too 
well the nature of the welcome that awaited her 
in the grim house where she had spent cheerless 
holidays since she was ten years old, and where 
she had led a repressed and colourless life all 
the years that had followed her nineteenth birth- 
day. 

Her father’s sister, who had been her guard- 
ian, support and tyrant since the terrible week 
that left her doubly orphaned, had always en- 
forced the most absolute maternal authority, 
while rendering it intolerable by the complete 
absence of maternal tenderness. The child of 
ten had cheerfully and willingly accounted to 
Aunt Agatha for every moment of her time, and 
had conscientiously tried to explain her every 
action; but to the girl of twenty this was an ever- 
increasing burden, and, as years went on, the 
woman of eight-and-twenty, who was not al- 
lowed to open her own letters, did not find the 
hard rule made easier by habit. 

Madeline sometimes thought that her aunt 
might have been more bearable if she had never 
married, for the memory of Mr. Cotesworth, who 
had been much younger than his wife, and who 
had quietly died of consumption soon after their 
marriage, was a never-failing incentive to tyran- 
ny. His views concerning the training of children 
and girls, as expounded by his widow, would 
have filled a large volume, and his stringent ideas 
of discipline would have astonished no one more 
than the gentle creature himself. Even in her 


6 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


childhood Madeline had found it difficult to 
reconcile the bland portraits of this uncle, whom 
she had never seen, with the terrible rules for 
her conduct which he had formulated, chiefly on 
his death-bed, according to Aunt Agatha. For 
a long time she was under the impression that 
“ consumption ” was something that Aunt Aga- 
tha had done to Uncle Paul. But, apart from 
the distressing influence of this disciplinarian 
wraith, Mrs. Cotesworth posed on her pedestal 
of widowhood as one who had fathomed all hu- 
man sympathies, and from whom the world hid 
no unknown bliss or bale. The experience of 
maternity had certainly been denied to her, but, 
in her own opinion, her adoption of Madeline had 
more than atoned for this deficiency. 

“ She came to me at exactly the right time, 
when her young intelligence was beginning to 
blossom, and I have shared her every thought.” 

Madeline knew this statement passing well; 
she had heard it made hundreds of times, to any 
and every acquaintance, in the elaborately soft 
voice that was belied by Mrs. Cotesworth’s hard 
eyes. One of the most wearisome necessities of 
her life had been the constant fabrication of 
thoughts, or, rather, of substitutes for thoughts, 
such as she could share with her aunt. 

Her hands moved nervously as she remem- 
bered the thousand miseries of the past, which 
would assuredly be the thousand miseries of the 
future also. Such petty, paltry troubles, but 
none the less very hard to bear — the harder, per- 


DAYS THAT ARE OVER. 


7 


haps, for their very triviality. Gratuitous trou- 
bles, too, it would seem — quite unnecessary and 
quite inevitable. What, on the face of things, 
could appear kinder or more tender than the care 
and guardianship Mrs. Cotesworth had given her 
orphan niece? She remembered the room that 
had been prepared for her — a veritable bower of 
prettiness, with its pink rosebud chintz and paper. 
“ So near to me, dear child,’' Aunt Agatha had 
said, “ that I can hear your every movement.” 
What a restraint and torment that nearness had 
proved ! 

It was almost twenty years since this room, to 
which she was returning, had been furnished; 
the thought of it gave her a little shudder. Was 
there something unwholesome in her nature, she 
wondered, that converted seeming-sweet actions 
to exceedingly bitter ones? It might appear so, 
but she alone knew what thorn-set, scentless 
blossoms were the pink rosebuds with which Aunt 
Agatha had surrounded her. Looking back that 
evening to her childish years, she thought with 
impotent bitterness of their thwarted possi- 
bilities, until her heart melted with pity for 
the child who had needed so little to make her 
happy, but to whom that little had always been 
denied. 

The child had had a talent for mimicry — an 
undoubted power of reproducing the voice and 
manner of her acquaintances; but this she had 
been sternly forbidden to exercise. Her passion- 
ate fondness for animals found its only expression 


8 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


in secret petting hastily bestowed on the unre- 
sponsive kitchen cat, while her eager desire to 
possess a pony had been pronounced worldly, if 
not wicked. The love of music, which Mrs. 
Cotesworth had tried to direct into what she 
called a ‘‘ proper channel,” had strengthened with 
years, and, in spite of constant discourage- 
ment and faulty instruction, had become what 
those who heard her singing of a ballad termed 
“ a real gift.” Madeline had early suspected, and 
it became a conviction in later life, that, with 
good tuition and training, she might have been 
a musician; but she found herself, her schooldays 
passed, a timid and, as she thought, an ineffective 
performer. One enjoyment only had escaped de- 
tection and its consequent reproof, for her love 
of reading had been unobserved by Mrs. Cotes- 
worth, to whom a book was a book, and it was 
only in the matter of binding that one differed 
from another. The unknown uncle had left a 
library behind him, and in this Madeline had 
browsed for years unnoticed, if not unseen. Her 
only difficulty had been to refrain from using in 
daily speech the lines and phrases that filled her 
retentive memory, for many a time an apt quota- 
tion had been received as an original imperti- 
nence, and punished accordingly. 

Her schooldays had been her delight and her 
salvation; the child at school was a high-spirited, 
quick-witted creature, bubbling over with young 
life and laughter, while the child at home moved 
slowly and spoke quietly, masking her youth with 


DAYS THAT ARE OVER. 


9 


a semblance of age. The instinct of the actress 
ran in her veins; the child was for ever “mak- 
ing believe.” She consoled herself through many 
a dreary hour by “ playing at being Aunt Aga- 
tha.” The heavy step that Mrs. Cotesworth 
strove to correct was a faithful copy of the lady’s 
own stately progress, and the very words with 
which she received a rebuke were carefully studied 
from her aunt’s speech. Happily, this audacity 
was never detected, save by an appreciative par- 
lour-maid. 

Madeline’s musings were broken by the sound 
of four bells; she had learnt to recognise it as 
ten o’clock, and went to her cabin, hoping by 
hasty undressing and feigned sleep to escape the 
confidential chatter of the girl who shared its 
narrow limits with her. She was too late, for 
Rosie Thurlow followed close behind her, with an 
infinite deal of nothing to relate at great length. 
Madeline had been constituted Rosie’s confidante 
before the steamer was two days out from Bom- 
bay. Within a week she had heard all that 
Rosie’s busy tongue could tell about “ Archie ” 
in Burma, who was coming home to marry her 
next summer, and had lent a kind though weary 
ear to long discussions of trousseau frocks. But 
neither these practical anticipations nor the big 
sapphire ring on her left hand could keep the 
girl’s light heart from roaming, and sundry feel- 
ings and fancies supplied Rosie’s days with inter- 
est, and her talk of them deprived Madeline’s 
evenings of rest. 


10 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


That night, long after Rosie was silent, Made- 
line lay awake restless and weary, fretted by wan- 
dering thoughts. Rosie’s prattle had recalled an 
old memory, an old sorrow — had roused a feeling 
of revolt from very long ago. Rosie was nine- 
teen; Madeline had been one year older when 
the only romance of her life began and ended. 
She smiled in the darkness as she realized the 
simplicity, the utterly commonplace character, 
of what had once seemed to her beautiful and 
wonderful. 

Aunt Agatha, whose habitual petulance 
formed a prickly scabbard to the steel blade of 
her will, had on that occasion laid aside peevish- 
ness and indecision, and shattered the potentiali- 
ties of the future in a very ruthless manner. 
Madeline wept bitterly over her cruelty at the 
time, and after the shadowy, fantastic love had 
faded away, ■ the memory of past suffering 
estranged her still further from her aunt. She 
was able now to understand that a kind deed 
had been very unkindly performed. She sum- 
moned back Edmund Welmore’s thin face to her 
mind until it showed clearly among the misty 
memories of ten years ago. She recalled the high, 
narrow brow, where the lank hair grew scantily, 
the thin-lipped, anxious mouth, the long neck 
that rose so far above the collar of his clerical 
coat, and no gleam remained of the saintly beauty 
she had once seen in that face. The features she 
had almost worshipped revealed, in the light of 
later knowledge, narrow-mindedness and a queru- 


DAYS THAT ARE OVER. 


II 


lous, unforgiving temper. Her life as his wife 
would doubtless have brought her sadder days 
than those she had spent with her aunt, but she 
did not reach this conclusion without the pain- 
ful feeling that she was breathing a chiller, lone- 
lier air, since for years the memory of what she 
had imagined Edmund to be had been a tender 
shelter to her spirit. She had exalted him into 
an ideal so far removed from real life that the 
news of his marriage had hardly troubled her. 
Now she remembered that one of the last letters 
from England mentioned that poor little Ed- 
mund Welmore, aged five, had broken his nose 
against the scullery door, unluckily left open in 
the dark. She threw back her head impatiently 
on her pillow; it was the sort of ignominious ac- 
cident that was likely to befall Edmund’s son; 
she wondered it had not happened to the man 
himself. The poverty of her experiences was 
sharply brought home to her by the fact that this 
man had been her first, her only love. 

Her thoughts sped swiftly through a vista of 
years that had been filled by the exactions of 
Aunt Agatha and by the dreariest of occupations, 
those that are self-sought and self-made. Courses 
of reading undertaken as mental tonics, searches 
after knowledge that was useless to her, and the 
manufacture of large pieces of embroidery which, 
on completion, were locked away by Aunt Aga- 
tha lest they should be “ spoilt by use ” — a prison 
life during which her constant companion and 
only support had secluded her, as far as was possi- 


12 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


ble, from all sympathetic friends and outside in- 
terests. 

Their final quarrel illustrated the perverseness 
of Mrs. Cotesworth’s disposition. She “ enjoyed 
ill health/’ and found resource and occupation 
in her doctor’s visits, especially when the old 
doctor sold his practice to a young man who, 
though not famous in his profession, had a gift 
of glib flattery. Madeline thought him at once 
obsequious, familiar, and vulgar, and was vexed 
to notice that he paid them longer visits than 
either the state of her aunt’s health or his own 
duties justified; but this did not prepare her for 
what happened after six months’ acquaintance. 
He was attending her for a severe cold, and Mrs. 
Cotesworth having gone out of the room in 
search of a much-prized gargle, a sentence that 
began with advice about her throat ended with 
a request that she would marry him. Surprise 
did not prevent her answer from being a prompt 
and decided “ No,” which her suitor received 
with cheerful incredulity. Madeline confidently 
expected Mrs. Cotesworth’s approval and sup- 
port, but her aunt expressed herself as being 
both surprised and pained that her dearest pro- 
jects for Madeline’s happiness should be thwarted 
by vanity and ingratitude. Dr. Turner was an 
ideal match, a man among ten thousand, far too 
good, indeed, for a penniless girl, to say nothing 
of a woman whose youth, and such good looks 
as she had ever possessed, were rapidly departing. 

Madeline was too certain that her one attrac- 


DAYS THAT ARE OVER. 


13 


tion for Dr. Turner lay in Mrs. Cotesworth’s 
bank account to be in the least moved by any- 
thing that he could say to her, and she received 
her aunt’s upbraidings in silence. This bowing 
to the storm availed her nothing, for Mrs. Cotes- 
worth’s anguish of mind necessitated frequent 
visits from her medical adviser; and it was no- 
ticeable that after each visit her displeasure 
strengthened, and its manifestations became more 
disagreeable. 

It was at this opportune time, when Mrs. 
Cotesworth intermingled everything she said 
with the doctor’s suit, that Madeline found a 
friend, who brought with her a glimpse of free- 
dom, a chance of deliverance. On that day, by 
great good fortune, Mrs. Cotesworth had a head- 
ache, caused by a morning of invective, and, 
after a final bitter shaft, had issued orders that 
her sleep was not to be disturbed on any pretext 
until five o’clock. Madeline therefore found her- 
self free to entertain a stout, pleasant-faced lady, 
who kissed her twice and told her several times 
that she was very like her dear mother, only not 
quite so pretty. 

Mrs. Haymont was the wife of an Indian 
civilian, and a distant relative of Madeline’s 
mother. She belonged to the unjustly maligned 
portion of humanity that will do anything for a 
present friend, and instantly forget an absent one, 
incurring thereby the contempt of the larger por- 
tion that does nothing for friends either near or 
far. The very fact of Madeline’s existence having 


14 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


escaped her memory for many years, she had, as 
it were, a cumulative stock of affection for her. 
The sea of her benevolence ran mountains high, 
until at last one vast wave swept Madeline off 
her feet ; this was nothing less than an earnestly 
urged suggestion that she should accompany the 
Haymonts to India the following month. While 
she stood rapt in the wonder of it, Mrs. Cotes- 
worth entered, and Madeline noted in amaze- 
ment how her majestic manner softened and be- 
came well-nigh genial under this new influence. 
Opposition was conquered, scruples overcome; 
and Madeline saw, as in a dream, the thread of 
her life twisted in a new direction by this won- 
derful stranger-friend. 

Before Mrs. Haymont left, she had exacted a 
definite promise that Madeline was to visit her 
for at least a year. 

When the stimulus of her presence was with- 
drawn, Mrs. Cotesworth naturally retracted all 
that she had said, and waxed pathetic as she 
talked of desertion and eager thirst for pleasure; 
but Madeline’s fetters had eaten too deeply into 
her soul to allow her to give up the chance of 
freedom. Mrs. Haymont was staying in the 
neighbourhood, and the persistence with which 
she followed up her first advantage was admi- 
rable. Mrs. Cotesw’orth was opposed by a will as 
strong as her own, and a temper both more en- 
ergetic and more amiable. The combination was 
irresistible, and Mrs. Haymont had her way, 
from the first great decision down to the last 


DAYS THAT ARE OVER. 


15 


pair of gloves in Madeline’s outfit. The girl her- 
self could not believe in her good fortune until she 
stood upon the steamer’s deck outward-bound. 

Madeline’s eyes moistened with stinging tears 
of self-pity as she remembered her hopes and vi- 
sions during that voyage less than a year ago — 
imaginings almost as foolish as the fairy-tales she 
had been accustomed to tell herself twenty years 
before, when the rosebud room was new. She 
had expected too much. Gratitude led her into 
enthusiastic admiration for Mrs. Haymont, and 
disappointment was not long in following. Mrs. 
Haymont was kind and good, with a sunny na- 
ture utterly unclouded by her grim husband, who 
was silent when he was not surly; but she had a 
coarseness of fibre, a bluntness of perception, that 
the sensitive Madeline found intolerable. 

Her views were simple and frankly expressed. 
Madeline — she should call her Lena by-the-by, it 
was such a mouthful of a name else — was a dear 
girl, and quite as pretty as most people. Of 
course she would marry. With a little trouble 
she might even make a good match, for no one 
would think she was more than twenty-five. If 
the right people were asked to the house, and 
Lena talked brightly and showed how well read 
she was, it might be a high-up civilian. She 
would have counselled her own sister or her own 
daughter with equal candour and directness. She 
explained her intentions to Madeline out of sheer 
goodness of heart, but the shy, nervous woman, 
whose life had been spent in almost claustral se- 


I 


1 6 A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 

elusion, was pained and disgusted. Her happy 
dreams were replaced by exaggerated forebod- 
ings, and before long she mistrusted and miscon- 
strued Mrs. Haymont’s every word and action. 
Her anxiety to show that she did not lend her- 
self to any matrimonial schemes made her man- 
ner unnatural and repellent, and she took pleas- 
ure in smoothing out the pretty tendrils of her 
wavy hair, and wearing dresses wherein she 
looked her worst. These trivial measures were 
her only defence against a very terrible imputa- 
tion. People would certainly say that Mrs. Hay- 
mont was trying to get Miss Norton married, but 
no word or look of hers should show sympathy 
with the plot. 

She stood in her own light with unflagging 
energy and a persistence that was almost pa- 
thetic. She repelled interest that might have 
ripened into love, and avoided acquaintances who 
would willingly have become friends. She earned 
for herself the reputation of being a dull and silent 
young woman, and the season at Simla, from 
which Mrs. Haymont had expected so much, was 
a long six months of humiliation and mortifica- 
tion to Madeline. The fact that the humiliation 
and mortification were self-sought and self-in- 
flicted did not sweeten them to the girl who had 
lived too long with Mrs. Cotesworth to be wholly 
free from the taint of morbidness and bitterness. 

Mrs. Haymont was sadly disappointed, and, 
being unskilled in the finer varieties of feeling, 
Madeline’s behaviour was as inexplicable to her 


DAYS THAT ARE OVER. 


17 


as it was baffling. She began to speak of her as 
“ peculiar/’ and from thenceforward Madeline 
was known as “ that strange Miss Norton,” and 
her simplest actions were invested with a lurid 
light. 

It was a thoroughly false position arrived at 
through a misapprehension, and Madeline’s be- 
haviour was out of all proportion to the nervous 
terror that had originated it. A species of poor 
pride helped her to maintain her defiant attitude, 
even after she had a glimmering suspicion of its 
absurdity; and it was. a relief to both hostess and 
guest when news came, at the end of October, 
of Mr. Haymont’s transfer to Madras on a piece 
of special duty. Here was an excuse for Made- 
line, the failure, to return to England, and she 
availed herself of it, though at the first word of 
parting Mrs. Elaymont’s kind heart warmed to 
her anew. 

“ Do change your mind and stay with us a 
few months longer, Lena dear,” she said. “ I 
shall niiss you dreadfully. If you will. I’ll take 
you to Ootacamund next hot weather; that will 
be a thorough change, and another chance for 
you.” 

The last words spoilt all. Madeline’s lips set 
to a thin straight line as her coldest voice re- 
fused the invitation. 

The scarcely-ended time in India already 
seemed very far away. She could imagine how it 
would figure among her memories years hence, 
when she was an ill-tempered old woman like 


1 8 A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 

Aunt Agatha. Perhaps years hence some of the 
sting and ache and anger at her own foolishness 
would have died away. The hardest thing of all 
was the knowledge that her folly had armed Aunt 
Agatha with a new weapon against her; that lady 
might be trusted to make good use of it. 

She was now far enough away from her be- 
haviour of the past year to see it in its proper 
light, and for the first time she realized the full 
extent of her ungraciousness. She had elected 
to play a role of almost malign perverseness, and 
her dramatic instinct had taken possession of 
her and led her away further than she had meant 
or wished to go. She had intended to be merely 
dignified and distant, but she had become dis- 
agreeable, well-nigh repulsive, and she thought 
with a twitching little smile, that trembled into 
tears, of the gentleman who blacked himself all 
over to play Othello. If she had wished to in- 
dulge the somewhat morbid fancy of seeming 
other than her natural self, it would have been 
easy to her to assume a prettier part, to have 
given free scope for once to the brightness, the 
light-heartedness and the attractiveness which 
she was conscious of possessing. Now the 
chance was over, the one chance of her life, and 
she had proved to herself and all the world that 
she was fit for nothing but the cheerless seclu- 
sion, far worse than solitude, of existence shared 
with Aunt Agatha. 

The ship’s bells rang out again, again, and 
yet again, and a fat gray rat, emboldened by 


DAYS THAT ARE OVER. 


19 


night and silence, slid into the cabin and foraged 
for food. Madeline did not hear him, even when 
he found a packet of sweets in Rosie’s work- 
basket, and crunched pralines with noisy greedi- 
ness, and the tears that dripped on her pillow 
flowed too quietly to disturb him. 

****** 

Port Said looked hot and very dusty in the 
sunshine next morning, and Madeline did not 
care to go on shore. She had no desire to ride 
donkeys, and the well-worn jokes of their names, 
Grand Old Man,” “ Bicycle built for Two,” or 
Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay,” no longer made her 
smilcL. She sat on deck trying, by dint of closed 
eyes and deaf ears, to discourage the not easily 
daunted cigarette-sellers and hawkers of lace, 
photographs, and olive-wood paper-knives. 

A few steps behind her the captain’s pleasant 
face had grown serious over a telegram from Eng- 
land, addressed to him as the “ Commander of 
S.S. Moldavia.” 

“ Kindly break to Miss Norton, passenger 
Moldavia, news of her aunt Mrs. Cotesworth’s 
death. Influenza. December 5.” 


CHAPTER I. 


NEW-LIGHTED ON A HEAVEN-KISSING HILL.’’ 

“ In the middle of the woods 

Dwelt the Wongy Bongy Boo. 

One old jug, without a handle, 

Two old chairs, and half a candle — 

In the middle of the w'oods. 

These were all his worldly goods.” 

Edward Lear. 

‘^Winnie, this is like a barn; we can’t live 
here.” 

“ Don’t display your ignorance, my dear; it 
is a hill-house; they are all furnished like this, 
only some are worse.” 

“ But where is the furniture? I suppose this 
is meant to be the drawing-room, and it has one 
rickety table and two straight-backed chairs.” 

“ You have overlooked this couch — behold it! 
It is upholstered in chintz of twenty years ago, 
which proudly proclaims that it has never once 
been washed during that period. There is also a 
hole in it — a large hole to catch the unwary. 
Janet, save me! Pull me up! I’m sinking fast ! ” 

The room was a particularly nice one, con- 
sidered as part of a cottage in Simla. It was fairly 
large, and at one end a bow-window looked out 
across billowing masses of green and brown 


20 


NEW-LIGHTED. 


21 


mountains, to where the snowy range rose clear 
and pure against the evening sky. After the 
fashion of Indian rooms, it suffered from a pleth- 
ora of doors. Two, made chiefly of glass, led 
into a veranda, two more into a passage, while a 
fifth opened upon a small square den, capable of 
becoming a study or a boudoir according to the 
fancy of the occupant, and most impartially unfit 
for either purpose. 

The ceiling was made of whitewashed canvas, 
and bulged exceedingly. The walls had a dull 
gray paper patterned in brown and blue; the fire- 
place was a yawning gulf, and the mantelpiece 
a simple ledge of whitewashed clay. A dirty cot- 
ton drugget made pretence of covering the floor; 
and the furniture was one table, two chairs, and 
the perilous sofa, nothing else. The little square 
room had a still dirtier drugget, and a very small 
table tottering on three uneven legs. 

The two women looked at each other, one 
amused, the other dismayed. 

“We harmonize fatally well with our sur- 
roundings,'’ said the one who was amused — 
“ deep in dust, and with a faded, dilapidated ap- 
pearance; - Let’s get rid of cloaks and solah 
topees. Aren’t the stairs wonderful? It’s just 
like ascending the Great Pyramid, if you could 
only imagine that laid down with cocoanut mat- 
ting.” 

The steep steps were few in number, and the 
rooms they led to rather more meagrely ap- 
pointed than those below. A middle-aged wo- 


22 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


man, in whose face a desire to complain struggled 
with a resolve to show no surprise, was unpack- 
ing a great many boxes. 

There is only one hanging wardrobe, ’m, 
and it looks so dirty I really don’t like to put your 
dresses in it,” was her greeting. 

“ Never mind about it now, Nugent; the 
dresses can stay in their boxes for to-night.” 

“ Winnie,” called Janet, across the narrow 
passage, “ this basin is so cracked that it would 
not hold together for five minutes in England; 
the climate must have strange powers here.” 

“ Well, my jug is in two, four, six pieces, cun- 
ningly connected with copper wire— a miracle of 
noble workmanship! I wonder the riveter could 
find it in his heart to part with it.” 

“ Winnie, there isn’t an inch of curtain or 
blind in my room; how am I to go to bed to- 
night? ” 

“ Oh, Cockney! How often must I tell you 
that we are not in London; there is no one to 
overlook you here except crows and monkeys, 
and they are not easily shocked, but you shall 
have blinds to-morrow.” 

The woman who spoke was rather tall and 
very slender; her face had a studied perfection 
of tint, accompanied by an unmistakable arti- 
ficiality of surface. Her eyebrows and long lashes 
were black, contrasting sharply with bright hair 
that was too warmly tinted to be golden, too 
russet to be ruddy, too brilliant to be brown. 
It decked her pretty head in well-arranged rip- 


NEW-LIGHTED. 


23 


pies and curls; and a certain quality of dainty 
finish hard to define, but impossible to ignore, 
characterized her whole appearance. 

“ Come down and have some tea, Janet,” she 
said presently, “ Mouz Bux has evolved it out of 
chaos and the luncheon-basket. Doesn’t it strike 
you as a great convenience that, though you are 
upstairs and I am down, I can talk to you almost 
without raising my voice, my ceiling and your 
floor are so thin? ” 

You ought to write to the landlord for more 
furniture; this is like a practical joke,” said Janet, 
seating herself cautiously on one of the straight- 
backed chairs. 

“ I don’t mind doing so, but I know before- 
hand that he will express great surprise at my 
unreasonable demands. ‘ Deodar Cottage has 
been let every season for the last fifteen years, but 
this is the first time any tenant has been dis- 
satisfied with the furniture; indeed, it is gener- 
ally considered to be one of the best-appointed 
houses in Simla.’ If I persist, he may perhaps, 
because of my continual complaining, stop my 
mouth with a converted packing-case, yearning 
to return to its former convictions, which he will 
call a sideboard. Do you think it would be worth 
the trouble?” 

“ But surely he would send you some chairs? ” 

“ Let me not malign a man who is doubtless 
both worthy and generous; I see, as in a look- 
ing-glass, the chairs he would send us. Wicker 
chairs, Janet — the ones that squeak, smeared 


24 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


with bazaar paint that smells to heaven, and 
sparsely cushioned in chintz, own cousin to that 
on our couch, red cabbages on a black ground. 
Dost thou like the picture? ” 

What are we to do, then? This room is im- 
possible.’’ 

“ Of course it is. Now you see the reason for 
my bale of Liberty chintz and muslin, though I 
am sure I have not brought half enough, for the 
dining-room needs reforming, too. Listen, my 
dear: to-morrow we will go out in rickshaws; 
until you are used to them, you will wonder if 
you are a baby in a perambulator or an invalid 
in a’ bath-chair, but that feeling wears off.” 

“ Yes, and then?” 

“ We’ll buy a carpet, several carpets, to cover 
this thing on the floor, which seems to have 
turned gray with horror at the ugliness of the 
wall-paper, and we’ll get tins of Aspinall, and then 
you’ll see.” 

“ What, are we to Aspinall this table? ” 

No, even my ambition has its limit; but if 
we wait — it may be for days, or it may be for 
weeks — men will come hung round with cane 
and wicker furniture. We shall buy some of these 
things, and order others of lengths and breadths 
to fit the holes and corners; they will bring them 
anon, with no unseemly haste, and then our work 
will begin.” 

I can make beautiful frilled curtains on my 
sewing-machine,” said Janet, brightening; “ this 
room will take six pairs.” 


NEW-LIGHTED. 


25 


My dear, you shan’t, this is holiday time; 
besides, you forget that we are in the Land of 
Luxury, where people habitually die from over- 
work, so take care. I mean to kneel before Nu- 
gent to-morrow, and sing imploringly, ‘ Oh, can 
ye sew cushions? ’ and, what is much more to 
the purpose, ‘ V/ill ye sew cushions? ’ I had bet- 
ter get a ticca dhirzie^ too. That’s not bad lan- 
guage, Janet; it only means a man who comes to 
sew by the day.” 

Janet still looked serious; she was a blue- 
eyed, sturdily-built young woman, who seemed 
older than her friend. Her brown hair was satin- 
smooth, and she had a look of radiant cleanli- 
ness, which had survived even the dusty ordeal 
of a fifty-mile drive on a hill road. 

“ India is not at all a ready-made country,” 
continued Winnie, who was seeking rest on the 
couch, and finding none; “ you are tripped up by 
raw products at every turn. For instance, the 
cotton we are going to stuff our cushions with 
will arrive in a big bundle, fresh drawn frae the 
tree, with twigs and pebbles and dirt in it; and 
we shall hire a man, dressed in the shadowed liv- 
ery of the burnished sun, and not much else, to sit 
in the veranda and pick it over.” 

“ I call that cumbrous.” 

‘‘ Looked at from the proper point of view, it 
is fascinating, and savours of the Middle Ages. 
Another cup of tea please, dear.” 

Roused by the rattle of teacups, a depressed 
fox terrier came out of a corner and eyed his mis- 
3 


26 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


tress reproachfully. His white coat was travel- 
stained, and his whole appearance expressed his 
heartfelt dislike for a new place and an unsettled 
household. 

‘‘Poorest Cripps!” said Winnie; “he was a 
pale martyr, he was, and if he had only known all 
he was going to suffer he would never have left 
own England. First it was a ship, a dreadful 
ship; and then it was a train that was much nas- 
tier, ’cause there was no rats there; and then it 
was a tonga that shook a dear dog, as if he had 
been a rat ownselfs.” 

Her sympathetic voice moved Cripps almost 
to tears; his ears drooped lower and lower, and 
he refused biscuits after one languid sniff. A 
saucer of sugared milk pleased him better; he 
emptied it with much splashing and slopping, 
sighed heavily, and fell asleep in a shivering 
coil. 

“ What are you going to do with this den? ” 
asked Janet, walking into the little square room. 

Winnie followed, and, slipping a hand through 
her friend’s firm arm, spoke with deliberation. 

“ Janet, take a boiled shrimp and a ripe apri- 
cot.” 

“ What do you mean? ” 

“ I’m not reciting from a cookery-book: a 
shrimp and an apricot, in one pink ruin blent, 
make a lovely colour, and muslin can be dyed 
in the bazaar to exactly that tint. I shall flute 
the walls of this fearful little place eight or nine 
feet up with miles of that muslin; the effect will 


NEW-LIGHTED. 


27 

be like a bonhonniere ^ and it will suit my com- 
plexion for-bye.” 

“ Oh, Winnie, your complexion! ” 

“ Don’t be arrogant ; we can’t all be washable 
pink and white like you and a nursery wall-paper. 
I wish I had brought some out with me, by-the- 
by; these walls are terrible, and the ceiling is like 
a white petticoat that’s coming down. Come 
and look at the house from the outside.” 

It was the end of April, and the warm day had 
turned to a chilly evening; the sunset was •over, 
and a soft wind had risen to say good-night to the 
pines. The sough of their branches was like the 
tender sound of a far-off sea. 

“ Oh, listen! ” said Winnie; '' isn’t it distinct? 
Tcan hear the very shish of the pebbles as the 
waves drag them back.” 

‘‘ What do you mean, dear? ” 

“ The wind in the pines; ” and she drew her 
cloak closer as she murmured; 

“ ‘ And still the pines of Simla hills 
Are moaning like a sea : 

The moaning of the sea of change 
Between myself — and me ! ’ ” 

What did you say, Winnie? ” 

Nothing; only there are eight deadly sins, 
quotation being the last and worst, especially 
when one alters the poet’s holy writ to suit one’s 
own base ends. Look at Deodar Cottage; isn’t it 
just like a doll’s-house on a shelf? ” 

There was space enough in front of the house 
for a rickshaw to turn with great caution and 


28 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


precision; then came a steep 'bank thickly set 
with slender pine-tree stems, and brown and slip- 
pery with last year’s pine-needles. A tangle of 
white wild-rose gleamed below, but the earth 
was parched and very thirsty and dusty, waiting 
for rain. 

“ Everything seems burnt up this year,” said 
Winnie; “ it is like the plains set on end. When 
the rains come, all these hillsides will be a tangle 
of beautiful green things.” 

It was hard to tell where the so-called gar- 
den ended and the hillside began; there was no 
gate, no paling — everything was just as it hap- 
pened, and the two or three oval plots edged with 
stones, and holding straggling rose-bushes, 
looked like unseemly freckles on the face of the 
great mountain. The hills round them loomed 
vaguely in the dusk; a fluffy owl cried shrilly 
from a tree near by, and a large clear star seemed 
to balance itself on the summit of a tall pine. 

“ I wish there was a moon to-night,” said 
Winnie, turning back in the veranda for a last 
look at the beautiful shadowed world — “ the hills 
are so glorious by moonlight; but, never mind, 
we shall be here for six months at least, and there 
are many moons in six months. Let us go and 
have cold things to eat; we can’t call it dinner, 
but we will settle down properly to-morrow.” 

“ This room won’t have settled down to-mor- 
row,” said Janet, as they came back to the bleak 
space dimly lighted by one travelling lantern. 

Never mind; in a fortnight it will be lovely, 


NEW-LIGHTED. 


29 


and then — then calling will begin. Such calling! 
You will think it a dreadful waste of time; it’s a 
dreadful risk of sunstroke, too, but one has to 
do it.” 

“ On whom are you going to call? ” 
Everybody, from the cedar of Lebanon to 
the hyssop on the wall, which means from her 
Excellency the Vicereine to the subaltern’s wife 
who lives in a hotel. Several of our fellow-pas- 
sengers are up here already. You will be glad to 
meet that nice little Mrs. Myles again, won’t you? 
I do not think I shall need the letters of introduc- 
tion which Madeline was kind enough to give 
me.” 

“ Winnie, Winnie! ” said Miss Rosslyn, laugh- 
ing with grave eyes. 

“ It’s a fact, my dear, and it is fortunate it is 
so, for I dare say everyone she knew has been 
transferred or has gone home. I’m not in the 
least ungrateful to poor dear Madeline; I’m very 
fond of her, and I have reason to know that she 
had a fearfully dull time in her youth; but she 
was not a very amusing person, was she? To the 
dull all things are dull. Oh, I wish it was the 
end of May, the Birthday ball over, and the sea- 
son well launched. I want to begin.” 

“ I do hope that all will go well with us,” 
said Janet, sighing. 

“ Yes, dear death’s-head. I’m sure it will; I 
will make a point of seeing that it does. Don’t 
be a kind of puritan, sweet soul; we are going to 
have such fun.” 


CHAPTER IL 

WHO^S THAT A-CALLING SO SWEET? ” 

“ All things were there for us, 

Life was complete — 

Fairer than fair for us. 

Sweeter than sweet, 

With a sky that was reared for our covering, an earth that was 
framed for our feet.” 

J. W. M. 

It was a glowing morning in mid-May, and 
the cuckoo shouting among the pine-trees had 
so English a note that it was hard to reconcile 
his voice with the mountains. The snowy range 
was veiled in mist, and a dusty simmer of heat 
brooded over the direction of the distant plains. 
Cripps, the terrier, lay stretched on the warm 
ground beyond the veranda, enjoying the for- 
bidden pleasure of basking in the sunshine, till 
a voice from the house made him start guiltily. 

“ Cripps, Cripps! Janet, have you seen 
Cripps? Where is that wicked dog? ” 

Cripps dashed through the flowerpots in the 
veranda, and presented himself with the air of a 
faithful servitor who has run fast and far; but his 
burning nose, and a blotch of yellow dust on his 
white side, betrayed him. 

“ Cripps, you have been lying in the sun, and 
30 


WHO'S THAT A-CALLING? 


31 

if you do that you will get fever, Cripps, and then 
you will die.” 

Cripps grovelled at Winnie’s feet in a little 
brief humility, and wagged his short tail almost 
under his left ear. 

“ No, Cripps. Go to own bed, Cripps, and 
stay there. If you do it again, you’ll get — you’ll 
get — you’ll get washed. Take care! ” 

Cripps crawled elaborately to a corner, with 
a great affectation of having no bone unbroken, 
and lay down in a temporary manner, with a fur- 
tive eye on the warm world outside. 

Winnie went back to the piano and sang two 
lines of a song. 

“ It’s no good,” she said; “ I’m lazy, and 
scales on a morning like this would be an insult 
to the sunshine. Haven’t we made this room 
pretty? It’s a pleasure to me every time I look 
at it.” 

“It is difficult to believe what it was when 
we came,” said Janet, looking up from her work. 
“ I thought then that it would be impossible to 
do anything with it.” 

“ Englishmen in India spend their lives in 
accomplishing the impossible. We all catch 
the trick of it out here,” said Winnie senten- 
tiously. 

The room was a little fantastic, and more 
than a little incongruous, with its yellow chintz 
and muslin, silken embroideries, pale velvet cush- 
ions, wicker chairs, and tables of carved wood and 
Cashmere papier-mache; but it had no terrible 


32 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


knick-knacks of plush and satin, no painted 
stools, sabots, or tambourines. There were sin- 
gularly few photographs. Most Anglo-Indian 
rooms are like shrines to absent friends, but this 
room had only several panel portraits of Winnie 
herself, surrounded by those emblems of martyr- 
dom — palms, lilies, and the skins of wild beasts 
— that are so strangely dear to the “ artistic 
photographer.” The pictures were all autotypes 
except one small painting of a charming child in 
an old-fashioned frock. Her gray eyes were un- 
mistakably like Winnie’s, but the wavy hair was 
dark. The little picture was in a very modern 
frame of beaten copper, embossed with mar- 
guerites, and a jar of tall flowers stood on a table 
below it. 

My little Daisy,” said Winnie suddenly, as 
she arranged a fern frond against the frame. “Do 
you think she is really happy at school? But the 
place is not like a school; it’s like a home, and it 
is so good for her to have companions of her own 
age.” 

“ Oh, Winnie!” 

“ You see, I could not bring her out here, 
dearly as I should have loved to do it,” went on 
Winnie, with a very serious face; “ the risk was 
too great — my one little girl. But I had always 
longed to see India, and if I had waited until 
Daisy was older I could not have borne the sepa- 
ration even for a few months. She is only six 
years old now, but such a tall girl! I tell her 
she will soon be able to look down on the top of 


WHO’S THAT A-CALLING? 


33 

her poor little mother’s head. Do you think 
that sounds very silly, Janet?” 

I have often told you what I think,” said 
Janet, breaking her thread. 

“ Yes, dear; but do you realize how much I 
needed a change after my husband’s death, 
though that is nearly two years ago now? Poor 
Tom! he had the strangest horror of mourning; 
he always used to say, ‘ Why on earth should you 
feel obliged to make a fright of yourself because 
a perfectly natural thing has happened? ’ He 
was always so resigned to the idea that I should 
outlive him. Of course, he was a great deal my 
senior, poor dear fellow! All the same, I should 
feel so heartless if I wore anything but black and 
white, and gray and heliotrope, and luckily they 
are really very pretty. Some women talk like 
that, Janet; I have heard them do it.” 

All the more reason for you to avoid it, I 
should think.” 

“ Perhaps so. Now, listen. I am going to 
call on Mrs. Tykes to-day; she is that woman 
with the forehead we met at the Myles’s din- 
ner, and she is one of the few people left up here 
whom Madeline used to know eighteen months 
ago.” 

“ There must be numbers of people that 


My dear, barring a few potentates who do 
not count, I doubt if there are five people here 
now who knew Madeline, and they have forgot- 
ten her. This is the Land of Chance and Change. 


34 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


The cards are always being shuffled — visiting 
cards especially.’^ 

“ I am sure there will be someone who ” 

“ Consider first that there was nothing about 
Madeline to catch the eye, and most people 
looked at her without seeing her. Mrs. Bertie 
Vernon, for instance. Madeline knew her by 
sight, and will never forget her, while she will 
never remember Madeline. The flowers see the 
stars, but the stars do not see the flowers. Do 
you retain a lively recollection of the appearance 
and voice of every plain young woman you knew 
little and cared for less nearly two years ago? ” 

Janet opened her lips to speak, and closed 
them again on a sigh. 

“ It’s nearly twelve,” went on Winnie. “ I 
must go and be dressed. ‘ The War Lord Sahib’s 
Lady ’ is at home to-day — that is what the na- 
tives call the Commander-in-Chief’s wife — and I 
must journey from Dan to Bathsheba — Beershe- 
ba, I mean — from Chota Simla to Boileau Gunge. 
Shall you ‘ receive ’ this morning? ” 

Please not. I feel so awkward if people call 
when you are out.” 

Only learn to say ‘ Darwaza bund ’ to the 
bearer, and you will live in peace. It means, ‘ The 
door is- shut.’ Try and remember it; it is more 
truthful than ‘ Not at home,’ and should there- 
fore commend itself to you.” 

When Winnie came back she was wearing a 
white gown, lightly touched with black, and a 
triumphant bonnet. 


WHO’S THAT A-CALLING? 


35 


“ Look at me in the light, dear,” she said, 
“ and tell me truly if you think I have too much 
on — in the way of tinting, I mean. I fancy Nu- 
gent is a trifle heavy-handed, and I don’t want 
to look raddled.” 

“ I should like you better without any tint- 
ing.” 

“No, you wouldn’t; quite a mistake. Oh, 
do call Cripps; I can’t take him. He always gets 
exactly in front of the wheels; I shall run over 
him one day, and then I shall never get over it. 
Catch him! ” 

But Cripps was half-way up the steep path to 
the Mall, telling the mountains with full-throated 
ease that he was taking his rickshaw and the lady 
that belonged to him out for an airing. Janet’s 
call from the veranda had no effect upon him, 
beyond strengthening his belief in his own popu- 
larity. 

A fresh breeze blew from the snows, but the 
Mall was hot and dusty. The white wild-roses 
were casting their petals in fluttering showers like 
short-lived butterflies, and their perfume was 
honey-sweet in the warm air. The roads were 
noisy with rickshaws, and the men who drew 
them were in the first freshness of their fantastic 
liveries — liveries that would soon be worn and 
shabby. The trees near the narrow paths that led 
up or down the slopes to the houses among the 
pines were dotted with little tin boxes bearing 
names and the statement “ Not at Home ” — a 
benevolent arrangement which modifies the 


36 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


tyranny of paying morning calls up the airy 
mountains. Winnie dealt out cards liberally. It 
was an excellent day for calling; everyone seemed 
to be out, and when she reached Snowdon, she 
saw the reason why. 

The “ War Lord’s Lady ” was receiving a long 
procession of visitors, each in her 'best gown, 
and with a little air of consciousness assumed at 
the same time. 

The aide-de-camp in undress uniform who 
handed Winnie out of her rickshaw was an ac- 
quaintance of ten days’ standing. 

‘‘ How are you, Mrs. Edwards? Going 
strong? You’ll find all and sundry in there. I’ll 
write your name in Lady Percival’s book. Got the 
address on your card? That’s all right. Come 
along and be announced by yourself before the 
next batch arrives. Mrs. Edwards.” 

“ You are a newcomer, I think,” said Lady 
Percival, smiling and shaking hands for the hun- 
dred and forty-second time in three-quarters of 
an hour. 

Yes, I am a globe-trotter,” said Winnie. 

Mrs. Myles,” announced the aide-de-camp, 
Mrs. Scott, Mrs. Silver, Mrs. Bryce.” 

“ I am coming to sit by you,” said the first of 
the little group to Winnie, a dark-haired woman 
with pretty eyes, and a suggestion of picturesque- 
ness held in check by severely conventional gar- 
ments. “ How are you, and what have you been 
doing? ” 

“ Upholstery, chiefly. When are you coming 


WHO'S THAT A-CALLING? 


37 

to see the miracle we have wrought with the very 
dry bones of our house? ” 

“ Some day, next week, I hope. Where is 
Janet?’’ 

‘‘ Left at home by her own special request. 
I like your gown, my dear; it’s a beautiful fit.” 

“ One can’t go very far wrong in a gray tailor- 
made,” said Mrs. Myles, glancing down at the 
skirts of her coat; “but it’s not at all excit- 
ing. Now, you are like a dream — an artist’s 
dream.” 

“ That artist must have read a great many 
fashion papers before he slept,” said Winnie. 

“ Do you like Simla as much as you expected 
to?” said Mrs. Myles, after an instant’s silence. 

“ Yes, and much more.” 

“ I wonder why? And do you know all these 
people? ” looking round the crowded room. 

“ Not yet, but I want to, and I mean to.” 

“ But they are not in the least interesting.” 

“ Oh yes, they are, if you talk to them in the 
right tone of voice; or, at any rate, they are 
amusing. Do look at those three over there. 
They were here when we arrived; they have been 
sitting on the point of departure ever since, 
and it makes them wriggle dreadfully. Let’s 
give them a friendly lead. Good-bye, Lady Per- 
cival.” 

“ Give my love to Janet,” said Mrs. Myles, as 
they waited in the veranda, “ and ask her to 
come to tea with me some afternoon.” 

“ And mayn’t I come too, please? ” 


38 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


‘‘You! You will never have an afternoon to 
spare; you will be riding round Jakko with ” 

“ The beautiful boys of fiction, I suppose,” in- 
terrupted Winnie; “ I have never met any. Send 
them to call on me when they arrive.” 

“ They will find their own way. Good- 
bye.” 

“ Sixteen calls paid, Cripps; we are getting 
on splendidly!” said Winnie; “now for Mrs. 
Tykes’s box. Oh dear, she seems to be in; how 
unlucky we are! Niche jao jampariisP Down 
went the rickshaw, jolting and bumping over the 
steep, sharply-turning path, down, down, still 
down. “ When people live in the plains,” said 
Winnie, “ I do wish they would not pretend they 
are in Simla. We shall reach Kalka soon. Cripps, 
where is this place? ” 

The path was like that in Looking-glass 
Land; even as she thought they were nearing the 
house, it took a brisk turn, shook itself, as it were, 
and led into what appeared to be the opposite 
direction. Many devious windings brought them 
at long last to a broad veranda, where they were 
received by a chicken, that hurried out of the 
house taking very high steps. Cripps trembled 
in every limb from excitement, but was too well- 
mannered to attack it. Then came a long wait 
in the sunshine before that open sesame, the word 
“ Salaam,” admitted Winnie to Mrs. Tykes’s 
presence. She was a tall woman of austere re- 
gard, with hair brushed severely from her brow 
and flattened tightly upon her head. 


WHO’S THAT A-CALLING? 


39 


‘‘ I did not mean to be at home to-day/’ was 
her greeting; “ I thought I had sent the box 
up.” 

“ I am sure I looked for it,” said Winnie 
plaintively, “ and it was not there; you should 
scold your bearer.” 

“ Oh well, it can’t be helped, and I am very 
glad to see you now that you are here. I was out 
in the fowl-house when you came; do you know 
anything about poultry? ” 

“ No, nothing at all.” 

‘^You should learn; it’s a great economy. 
What does your man charge you for murghics 
from the bazaar? ” 

“ I really don’t know; Miss Rosslyn very 
kindly looks after the house for me.” 

“ I thought so. Well, if you inquire you will 
find that by buying and fattening your own you 
will save at least six annas on each bird; that 
counts for something.” 

“ Yes, indeed,” murmured Winnie, with a po- 
lite attempt at enthusiasm. 

“ And you will be surprised to find what a 
difference a few weeks’ feeding makes in the qual- 
ity of their flesh; mine get the soup-meat every 
day and all the table leavings. What becomes of 
your soup-meat? ” 

“ I think the soup is generally made from shin 
or something,” faltered Winnie. 

“Wasteful and tasteless,” said Mrs. Tykes; 
“ tell your cook to give you meat soup. I will 
send you one of my murghies to show you how 


40 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


good they are; only it ought to be roasted in a 
kerosene stove, not over charcoal. Have you 
got a stove? ” 

“ No, we haven’t.” 

You ought to get one. Indeed, in the 
rains — and they are not far away now — I don’t 
know what you will do without a stove to 
dry things, unless of course you prefer that 
horrid arrangement of charcoal and wicker- 
work.” 

Winnie was not aware that she had this low 
partiality, but a meek murmur seemed the easiest 
answer. 

You really must get a stove, Mrs. Edwards, 
and make that maid of yours — useless things they 
are out here generally — use it. She could roast 
fowls and small joints in it, and if I were you I 
should insist on her making all your pastry and 
things of that kind. I never allow a loaf of baker’s 
bread into the house; they are dirty wretches; 
I make my own yeast out of kismis, and it’s much 
better than baking-powder; I’ll give you the 
recipe for your maid to try.” 

“ Do you think it would be good for herliands 
when I wanted her to lace my dresses? ” 

“ Nonsense! ” said Mrs. Tykes; “ I make all 
my own bread, and do a great deal more than 
that maid of yours will ever do, I’ll be bound, 
and look here ” — she held out capable hands that 
showed traces of hard work — “ I was writing to 
my chicks the other day,” she continued, in her 
strong voice, “ and I told them that I wanted 


WHO’S THAT A-CALLING? 


41 

them to grow up useful — none of your spoilt, 
dressy monkeys.” 

“ Your chicks grow up monkeys? ” said Win- 
nie interrogatively; her thoughts were still in the 
poultry-yard. 

“ Yes, my children. You have some chil- 
dren, haven’t you? You are a widow, they tell 
me.” 

‘‘ I have one little girl in England.” 

“ Left her at home? How old is she? ” 

“ Only six.” 

“ Oh, well, I suppose you don’t mean to stay 
, out here long. It’s quite the fashion for idle 
people to come here now. They can have very 
little to do, I say.” 

“ But there is so much to see in India.” 

“ Yes, in the plains in the cold weather; but 
I should not care to stay in Simla if I was not 
obliged to. When did you come out? ” 

“ Last March.” 

“ That’s a queer time of year to choose. I 
suppose you will go home next cold weather? ” 

“ Yes, I think so.” 

“ And what made you want to come to 
Simla? ” 

“ I heard a great deal about it from a cousin 
of mine — not a first cousin — a distant connection 
— a Miss Norton.” 

“ I remember her perfectly well. Madeline 
Norton was her name; she was staying with Mrs. 
Haymont. So you are related to her? But you 
are not in the least her style.” 


42 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“ I am very fond of Madeline,” said Winnie, 
smiling. 

“ She was a nice girl — woman I should say, 
for she could hardly call herself a girl any longer,” 
said Mrs. Tykes, with a little snort, which was a 
trick of hers when she wished to be emphatic. 
“ I never saw very much of her, but she seemed 
quiet and ladylike — sensible, too. She did not 
wear a fringe and pretend to be pretty.” 

“ I always tell her that she would look better 
with a fringe,” said Winnie, laughing. “ Do you 
think I am at all like her? Many people see a 
resemblance when we are together.” 

‘‘ Not the very least in the world,” said Mrs. 
Tykes, scanning the perfection of Winnie’s ap- 
pearance with a malevolent eye; “ I never saw 
two women less alike. She always looked simple 
and natural; that’s what I liked about her. Why 
didn’t she marry out here? ” 

I suppose she met no one she cared 

for.” 

“ Or no one who wanted to marry her; that 
is more like it, I should say,” said Mrs. Tykes, 
with her snort. “ Mrs. Haymont must have been 
very foolish. If she had only played her cards 
properly there would have been no ” 

“ I had no idea it was so late. I really must 
go. Good-bye.” 

And Winnie was gone almost before Mrs. 
Tykes could rise. 

“ That is a real example of the odious woman 
when she is married,” she remarked to Cripps, 


WHO’S THAT A-CALLING? 


43 


who had reduced his tongue to something that 
resembled its normal length, but who insisted on 
riding up the hill in her rickshaw. “ However, it is 
pleasant to know that she had kindly feelings 
towards that poor girl — woman, I should say — 
Madeline. Nobody would ever have suspected 
them.’’ 


CHAPTER III. 


A LITTLE TALKING OF OUTWARD THINGS.’’ 

“ A lady richly left . . . her sunny locks 
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece ; 

. . . And many Jasons come in quest of her.” 

Shakespeare. 

Janet sat in the upper veranda writing a let- 
ter. Cripps lay near her feet, growling softly at 
frequent intervals. His instincts were not hos- 
pitable, and the knowledge that his mistress was 
receiving visitors downstairs without his protec- 
tion was very terrible to him. 

“ Never mind, Cripps,” said Janet, smoothing 
his anxious ears; “it will soon be two o’clock.” 

She was writing to her lover in Australia, and 
she wrote slowly, not because it was three years 
since they had met, but because she was in the 
habit of telling him everything, and a great deal 
had now to be left out of her letters. 

“ My very dear Will,” was her opening phrase; 
she objected to the superlative “ dearest,” which 
implied to her mind two other Wills, and the 
word “ darling ” was only used in her most se- 
cret thoughts; it was too tender for speech or 
writing. 

“ Simla is really very beautiful,” she wrote, 
44 


A LITTLE TALKING. 


45 


“ and I am growing accustomed to walking up- 
hill; at first I found it very trying. I cannot tell 
you how much stronger I feel since I left Eng- 
land, and it is certainly the most delightful 
change from my life as a governess. Yes- 
terday ” 

She looked up with a sudden feeling that 
someone was watching her. There was a plain- 
tive little cry; a small hand parted the branches, 
and an anxious face peered at her from half-way 
up a pine-tree. 

“Nugent,” she called, “come quickly; the 
monkeys are here.” 

Janet had no fondness for monkeys; she con- 
sidered them uncanny and unclean, but she knew 
that to Nugent they represented the poetry of 
the Orient. They had come in their usual troop 
— a dozen or fifteen — headed by a red-faced 
demon chief, with muscular arms and legs and 
a terrible temper. Half-grown monkeys skir- 
mished round him at a safe distance, and careful 
mothers, carrying on their backs tiny imps whose 
eyes expressed the sorrow of all the ages, and 
whose hair was neatly parted down the middle, 
fled if he even glanced in their direction. 

Nugent enticed away the unsuspecting Cripps 
with a biscuit, and shut the door behind him. 

“ He agitates them so, ’m,” she explained, 
returning. “ Listen to that little one mewing. 
Isn’t it pretty? ” 

A baby monkey had been left to keep house 
by itself on a swaying bough, and bewailed its 


46 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


fate in a voice like a forlorn kitten’s, while its 
mother, lost to all sense of dignity, was joining 
in a well-ordered game of “ Swing-till-you-are- 
pulled-ofif ” on the lower branches. 

“ It’s a strange country, ’m,” said Nugent 
thoughtfully, “ where one sees monkeys in the 
trees instead of birds.” 

“ But there are a great many birds, too. Look 
at those big black crows.” 

‘‘ There’s something very animal-like about 
them, ’m, with their hoarse voices. Now, these 
monkeys are so civilized, even without the little 
red jackets that they’d be wearing at home. 
Oh, look, ’m — do look! That big one has just 
given a little one such a smack. They’re quite 
human.” 

A sudden panic seized the monkey tribe. The 
frivolous mother whisked up the tree, and flung 
her babe over her shoulder. It slid down her 
back, and crouched there, firmly clutching her 
tail. The demon chief bounded heavily down the 
slope; the smaller monkeys were nimbly gone in 
different directions, and in an instant neither 
sight nor sound told of their passing. 

“ Mrs. Edwards is having a great many visi- 
tors this morning, ’m,” said Nugent, returning 
sadly to ordinary life; “ I’m thankful she put on 
a white dress. She inclined to black herself, and 
that’s a pity for a popular lady.” 

Janet murmured something inaudible; she was 
divided between fear that Nugent might grow 
too familiar if encouraged to talk, and honest 


A LITTLE TALKING. 


47 

pleasure that the woman should take a friendly 
interest in her surroundings. 

“ Perhaps some of the gentlemen will be stay- 
ing to lunch; wouldn’t you like me to do up your 
hair, ’m? ” said Nugent persuasively. “ I know 
a most becoming style, quite different from Mrs. 
Edwards’ — smooth coils that ” 

“ No, thank you, Nugent,” said Janet firmly; 
“ I should not feel like myself with my hair dif- 
ferently arranged.” 

Janet wore her abundant brown hair in a flat 
mass of many little plaits fastened closely to her 
head. It was a fashion of years ago, belonging to 
the days when she had first met Will Norris, and 
tenderly persisted in by her as a memory of the 
happiest time of her life. Nugent regarded the 
unfashionable outline as a reflection upon her- 
self; being justly proud of her talent for hair- 
dressing, it pained her to live in the house with 
a lady who was so obstinately out of date. 

There was a sweet style in last week’s Lady’s 
Pictorial, ’m,” she began tentatively. 

“Janet, tiffin!” called Winnie from below. 
“ Good girl to come so quickly; I am starving. 
' Bring me meat and bring me wine, bring me 
pine logs hither.’ Nineteen callers this morning; 
we are getting on, though Mrs. Bertie Vernon 
told me yesterday that she had twenty-seven last 
Sunday. I asked very innocently, ‘ What, all at 
once? ’ and when she said, ^ No, from twelve to 
two,’ I looked as if I did not think much of it, 
and that made her love me.” 


48 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“What did you talk to them all about? I 
should never know what to say.” 

“ It’s only like playing the game of ‘ Twenty 
Questions,’ mixed up with ‘ How, when, and 
where do you like it?’ it. being either Simla or 
India. They don’t stay long, and, if you have a 
frugal mind, the same questions and answers will 
do for the whole nineteen, so it isn’t very diffi- 
cult.” 

Winnie had a little pack of cards in her hand, 
which she dealt out as she talked. 

“ Look, Janet, these are all for you; you are 
not to write to Will next Sunday; I want you 
with me. You would have seen five aides-de- 
camp to-day, think of that! Three of the Vice- 
roy’s crhne de la crime, my dear, and one of 
them. Captain Luttrell, is rather good-looking; 
and the second, Lord Trerowan, has a title, which 
is much more important; and the third. Captain 
Yeatt, has such bad manners, and drops his ^’s 
so carefully that it gives him a style of his own. 
Then there was Captain Curtis, one of the Chief’s 
aides, and Captain Sheppard from Barnes Court, 
and a lot of men from the Club; I had no idea the 
holiday-makers came up so soon. And, oh Janet, 
here is the best card of all! ” 

“ Colonel Strath-Ingram, the 21st, the King’s 
Royal Loyal Dragoons,” read Janet. 

“ It’s pronounced Struthgrum, dear; I’ll tell 
you all about him. He is a bachelor; a handsome 
stripling, too, in his own estimation, and once 
upon a time he took Madeline in to dinner.” 


A LITTLE TALKING. 


49 

Winnie paused, and broke through the white 
shell of a meringue with much deliberation. 

“ Well, that wasn’t very terrible.” 

“Wait a little; it is a memory that requires 
cream and sugar, and the cook makes these 
things charmingly. Listen: she did not want to 
be taken in to dinner by him; it was an honour 
that she could not bear, and she was looking very 
plain that evening, and feeling as dull as you 
please. But granting all this, the dictates of 
Christian charity should have impelled him to 
talk to her just a little, and he didn’t.” 

“ Perhaps the poor man was feeling ill.” 

“ Prithee, peace. He ate very largely, and 
when she hazarded remarks, he answered as nearly 
in grunts and grumphs as is possible for an officer 
and a gentleman. Madeline was very unhappy; 
it’s ridiculous the way that little thing affected 
her, and after dinner he was talking to a lady of 
the Mrs. Bertie Vernon school of painting, and 
he said, ‘ I did think that in this house I was safe 
not to be paired off with a dowdy frump of that 
sort.’ Madeline was sitting behind him under a 
palm-tree like Enoch Arden, and of course she 
heard. When she was alone that night, she 
cried and cried; it was so dreadful to be ‘a 
dowdy frump of that sort.’ Give me another 
meringue, khitmatgar^ to sweeten my recollec- 
tion.” 

“ Poor Winnie! ” said Janet. 

“ Poor Madeline! ” said Winnie; “ though, if 
you come to think of it, it was what she had 


50 


A PINCHBECK GOI5dESS. 


worked for, and she ought to have been delighted, 
but inconsistency’s name was frequently Made- 
line. Well, Colonel Strath-Ingram will be here 
for three months. He has seen me riding, and 
vows that ‘ Two and Two is the prettiest lady’s 
hack in Simla; give you my word, Mrs. Edwards, 
and in every sense of the words, too — ho, ho! ’ 
His animals are on their way up still, but when 
they arrive he hopes, he trusts — in fact, he’ll be 
delighted to show me all the pretty rides about 
here. Isn’t it kind of him? ” 

“ I think he’s very forward.” 

‘ We call it lemonade in Ballyhooley ’ — I 
mean affability in Struthgrum. And I forgot: 
we are to go to the lunch the Viceroy’s staff 
give at Sipi Fair next week. Our cards will come 
to-morrow, and I have faithfully promised three 
separate promises that we will go.” 

Do let me stay at home.” 

You must come, dear. If you never go out 
with me, people will say that I beat you and 
bully you, and lock you up in the go-down, and 
make you wear my old clothes.” 

“ I only wish I could get into them,” laughed 
plump Janet. 

” But, seriously, consider your duty to dumb 
animals; think of Cripps. Poor Cripps! I mean 
to ride out, and he would refuse to run all the 
way, and he has not learnt the art of riding be- 
hind me, even supposing that Two and Two 
would permit it. What is he to do without own 
rickshaw and own Aunt Janet? Dear, it will be 


A LITTLE TALKING. 


51 

a charming sight, and I have set my heart on 
your coming.” 

“ Very well, then, Fll go.” 

'' And I settled something else this morning,” 
went on Winnie cheerfully; “ Major Morice, who 
is nothing if not musical, hopes to get up an 
operetta almost at once. I am to be the prima 
donna, and I have promised that you will play 
at one of the Monday pops.” 

I will play accompaniments gladly.” 

'^Yes, dear, and solos — you must.” 

“ But, Winnie, about your singing; surely I 

remember that you told me you ” 

“ Call people by their proper names,” said 
Winnie. 

Well,” said Janet, laughing a little nervous- 
ly, “ I thought that Madeline used to sing in 
Simla.” 

‘‘ She did — oh yes, she did! She sang ‘ Gates 
of the West ’ and the ' Lost Chord ' like this: 

“ ‘ Seated one day at the organ, 

I was weary and ill at ease.’ 

She generally was, poor thing! Now, Mrs. Ed- 
wards sings: 

“ Wot cher ? ” all the neighbours cried ; 

“ Oo’re yer goin’ to meet, Bill ? 

'Ave yer bought the street, Bill ? ” 

Laugh ? I thought I should ha’ died, 

When we knocked ’em i’ the Old Kent Road ! ” 

Chorus, Janet! Quiet, Cripps; no one asked you 
to join in! ” 


CHAPTER IV. 


A SUNSHINY WORLD FULL OF LAUGHTER AND 
LEISURE.” 

“ Oh, those mountains, their infinite movement ! 

Still moving with you ; 

For ever some new head and breast of them 
Thrusts into view 

To observe the intruder ; you see it 
If quickly you turn.” 

Browning. 

“ What a perfect day! ” said Winnie; “ every 
prospect is pleasing, and even man is not so vile 
as I have often thought him!” 

“ Yoti mustn’t be a misanthrope; leave that 
to the ugly women, poor things!” said Strath- 
Ingram. 

They were riding out to Sipi among hills re- 
freshed by recent rain, and beautiful with spring 
blossom and early summer foliage. The winding 
road, now cresting the summit of a hill from 
whence could be seen valleys so deep that the tall 
pines growing there looked like scrubby brush- 
wood, now circling the foot of an ascent so high 
that the mountain cattle grazing on its side 
seemed no larger than goats, grew more lovely 
with every mile. Delicate ferns sprang from the 
mossy rock, and the deep dark velvet of the moss 

52 


A SUNSHINY WORLD. 


53 


clothing the tree branches was in exquisite con- 
trast to the fresh young green of the new leaves. 
The white flowers of the wood-strawberry starred 
the banks its spreading fans tapestried, and long 
trailing sprays of wild-clematis festooned the 
lower growth of verdure. 

The birds were silent, or sang unheard, their 
sweet piping lost in the babble of the crowd that 
was going to the fair. Simla seemed to have 
emptied its native population into the pleasant 
path, all in holiday clothes and holiday spirits. 
The men wore clean white raiment with bright 
turbans, scarlet, orange, or green; and the women 
were a very revel of brilliant hues. A few of 
these women carried popinjay babies, comical 
brown dolls dressed in the gayest shreds and 
patches, but the majority were without encum- 
brance. Their little bare feet stepped briskly 
over the ground, and the gay tinkle of their silver 
ornaments mingled musically with their laughing 
chatter. 

“ Look at that yellow-and-purple woman, with 
the red muslin over her head,” said Strath-In- 
gram; “ there are all the colours of the rainbow 
for you, Mrs. Edwards.” 

“ The rainbow is a dim mysterious harmony 
compared with this triumphant blaze of colour. 
What free, untrammelled tastes these people 
have!” 

They’ve got rational dress, and no mistake; 
wouldn’t you like to take a suit of it home to 
show the reformer people? ” 


54 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“ Do you think it could be adapted to the 
needs of the bicycle? These women seem happy 
enough in it, but that is because they have never 
seen themselves in a long glass,” said Winnie. 

The baggy print trousers might have been 
fashioned with cunning intent to hide every grace 
in a woman’s form; they would have made Diana 
herself look bow-legged, and Venus unlovely. 
They were so narrow at the ankle that it was a 
work of difficulty to insert the slender foot, while 
round the hips some eight yards of solid cloth 
was drawn lumpily and humpily upon a string. 
A short jacket — velvet for the prosperous, and 
printed cotton for the poorer ones — and a veil 
of the brightest muslin, made what picturesque 
atonement they could for the hideous paijamahs. 

The merry crowd quickened its pace with each 
mile left behind till it slipped like a mountain 
stream from the brow of the hill to the valley of 
Sipi below, a very steep descent. The road for 
horses and rickshaws crossed and recrossed this 
living torrent as it wound down the mountain- 
side, steadily pouring its numbers into the sunny 
valley, but neither horse nor rickshaw stayed the 
descending cataract. 

The valley held the sunshine as a cup holds 
wine, and there rose from it the inarticulate hum 
of many voices, and the loud throb of the turn- 
turn, which seemed to come from the earth or 
air rather than from any instrument made by 
human hands, so continuous was its beat. Proud 
man was dressed in a little brief authority over 


A SUNSHINY WORLD. 


55 


the everlasting hills, and he had conquered the 
health-giving fragrance of the pines by the heavy 
incense of burning ghee, inseparable from the 
preparation of food for the multitude. 

“ It’s an intolerable noise,” said Winnie, as 
she dismounted, “ but there is something jubilant 
and exciting about it, nevertheless.” 

“ It’s a great thing to be easily pleased,” said 
Strath-Ingram. “ Now, do you want to see the 
temple? I think it’s part of your duty as a globe- 
trotter. We shall just have time to look at it 
before lunch.” 

The temple was a wooden one, much deco- 
rated with rough carving, and evidently Thibetan 
in design. The god had been brought outside, 
for the convenience of his worshippers, and placed 
upon a brown blanket, which formed at once a 
carpet upon the ground and a dado against the 
wall of the building. Not an imposing deity! 
He was about fifteen inches high, roughly made 
in brass, decorated with bead necklaces, and sur- 
mounted by a little umbrella-shaped canopy cov- 
ered with tinsel. 

Before him lay a few silver coins, and further 
off a pile of copper. Three small heaps of differ- 
ent kinds of grain were disposed upon the edge 
of the blanket, and two priests squatted close by 
with an air of proprietorship. 

“You may be quite sure that those rupees 
have been put there by the priests themselves as 
decoy-ducks,” said Strath-Ingram; “you see all 
these good people only bring copper.” 


56 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


Winnie did not answer. She was watching the 
humble shrine, and marvelling at its power to 
impress the simple worshippers. They came by 
twos and threes, sometimes by whole families, to 
offer their pence, make their reverence, and re- 
ceive at the hands of a priest a few grains from 
one of the three heaps. These the men put care- 
fully into the folds of their turbans, and the wo- 
men tied in a corner of their muslin veils, to be 
sowed hereafter in their fields in hope of a fruitful 
harvest, or to be eaten in a sacramental spirit. 
She could only guess which, and she was sure 
Strath-Ingram was as ignorant as herself, and 
much less interested. She watched them silently, 
feeling unspeakably far away from them, and not 
absolutely confident that this distance lay in the 
direction of heaven. What devout souls they 
seemed! The men and women made their sa- 
laams with deep reverence, the elder boys and 
girls shyly following their example, and one little 
fellow of about three years old nearly tumbled 
head over heels in a zealous attempt to touch 
the ground with his baby forehead. 

An elderly woman, whose face was exceed- 
ingly wrinkled and weary, made an offering of 
six copper coins, and with folded hands and de- 
votional air prayed aloud fervently. There was 
no mistaking the earnestness of her petition, and 
while Winnie wondered for what she was plead- 
ing, she turned back the sleeves of her dress, 
showing that she was afflicted with a cruel skin 
disease. She received her pinch of grain with 


A SUNSHINY WORLD. 


57 

great humility, and went on her way still mut- 
tering prayers. Winnie’s eyes grew tender. 

“ Oh, poor soul! ” she said. “ It is the prayer 
of faith.” She laid a rupee on the brown blanket. 
“Tell the priests it’s for her; they are to pray 
for her if that is what she wants.” 

Strath-Ingram laughed, and said nothing. 

“Hullo!” said Yeatt, coming behind them. 
“ What are you worshippin’ idols for, Mrs. Ed- 
wards? I’ve been lookin’ for you everywhere. 
Aren’t you cornin’ to lunch? ” 

He was a thin, loud-voiced young man; his 
moustache and eyebrows were fair to invisibility, 
and his neckties were like no others in India. It 
was rumoured that he received them weekly 
from Bond Street in half-dozens of the latest 
fashion. 

“ Lunch is in a shamidna over this way,” he 
went on. “ You don’t know what a shamidna is, 
of course; sounds like some kind of a stag, doesn’t 
it? It’s that sort of open tent standin’ in the 
shade.” 

All the world, the little Simla world, was 
seated at the narrow tables, and Luttrell beck- 
oned anxiously from a corner. He was keeping 
places for them in Beatrice’s heaven, “ where the 
bachelors sit.” 

Luttrell was endowed with the fatal gift of 
beauty, and noted for his eyelashes. His very red 
lips had a habitual expression which, in a woman, 
might have been termed “ sweet,” and he was 
frequently described as a “ darling boy.” 

5 


58 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


Curtis, one of the Chief’s aides-de-camp, sat 
opposite, square-shouldered and strong-chinned, 
with a suggestion of seafaring about his sun- 
browned face and clear eyes. 

“ Do have some rhubarb tart, Mrs. Edwards,” 
said Luttrell presently. “ Mashobra-grown rhu- 
barb, you know; it’s like the exile’s dream of 
home.” 

“ Mrs. Edwards hasn’t been out here long 
enough to cultivate a taste for such simple pleas- 
ures, dear boy,” said Strath-Ingram. 

“ All my pleasures are simple,” said Winnie, 
‘‘ and rhubarb tart stands high in the list. How 
would one ask for it in Hindustani? ” 

“ Estalk pie, I should think.” 

‘‘ Bravo; go up one. I shall never learn the 
language, but I’m better than Miss Rosslyn. She 
asked if her bath was on the table the other day. 
Why are they forming in line over there? ” 

“ It’s for the photo. We always have a big 
group photo every year. Come along, Mrs. Ed- 
wards; we must put you well in front.” 

“ Why? As a terrible example of a solah 
topee ? ” 

As the fairest flower of all,” said Strath-In- 
gram. 

The inevitable photographer fixed the party 
with the glassy eye of his camera, and one more 
memento of the ever-changing, never-dying con- 
course of atoms known as Simla Society was 
added to the number already existing or for- 
gotten. 


A SUNSHINY WORLD. 


59 


‘‘ You haven’t been introduced to the Sipi ele- 
phant yet. Do you care to come and see him? ” 
said Strath-Ingram to Winnie. 

“ An elephant here! Aren’t they afraid of his 
tumbling overboard — down the khud^ I mean ? ” 
He seems to flourish. It’s generally sup- 
posed that the Rajah of Sipi has a revenue of 
about a thousand a year — pounds, you know — 
and spends nine hundred of it in the upkeep 
of a state elephant — rather a swagger thing 
to do.” 

‘‘ I quite sympathize,” said Winnie, watching 
the restless bulk of the great creature shuffling 
and swaying under his gaudy trappings. If I 
were a begum, I should squander all my substance 
on elephants; they are much more regal and sat- 
isfying than diamonds.” 

There happens not to be a Rajah of Sipi,” 
put in Yeatt. “The Rana of Koti is the hill 
chief the place belongs to.” 

“ Never mind; the principle and the elephant 
remain,” said Winnie. 

It was past three o’clock, and the fun of the 
fair at its height bore many points of resemblance 
to the fairs of the Western world. There were 
countless merry-go-rounds, rough wooden cages 
slowly revolving, each with its load of men and 
boys trying how much they could endure in the 
way of unnatural motion, and flimsy booths cov- 
ered with thin cotton-cloth displayed a vast 
amount of glittering trumpery. These were Eu- 
ropean goods of the meanest, for the most part 


6o 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


toys, buttons, beads, tin-framed mirrors, brass 
gods, and sham jewellery. 

“ This is heart-breaking,” said Winnie impar- 
tially to her escort of three; “ I expected to find 
treasures — real native things — and they offer me 
nothing but Brummagem horrors. Fancy, a 
penny china dall in the heart of the Himalayas! ” 
But the German toys, the cheap cutlery, and 
the glaring Manchester cottons did not lack pur- 
chasers; the trumpery trifles were carried far away 
into the interior, where they represented, to un- 
sophisticated eyes, the wonders of a distant land. 
The little brown child, who had treasured a single 
coin in a warm clasp since early dawn, could now 
exchange it for a far greater treasure, and gaze 
with large-eyed delight on the tin fish or china 
chicken which was to it the most desirable of all 
the tempting things displayed. 

Here’s the best part of the fair,” said Strath- 
Ingram, with a fat chuckle; he was a spare man, 
but he laughed like a stout one; “now we are 
coming to the marriage market. You will see 
them all neatly arranged waiting to be chosen.” 

“ He’s humbuggin’ you, Mrs. Edwards,” said 
Yeatt; “they’re just left here while their hus- 
bands go off and have a jolly good time without 
’em. All the ugly old ones look after the pretty 
ones; rippin’ good notion, I call it.” 

On a piece of rising ground, which was the 
southern limit of the fair, some hundreds of 
women sat in patient rows. They had accom- 
panied their husbands to the festival, and had 


A SUNSHINY WORLD. 


6l 


been bidden to sit still, in the safety of numbers, 
as there were too many men abroad for modest 
women to encounter the gaze of. Their placid 
patience was admirable, as through the long day 
they sat watching the revelry round them. Some 
of the younger faces were sweet and touching, in 
spite of the disfigurement of nose-ring or nose- 
stud, but the old women were, almost without 
exception, nightmares of ugliness. 

One harridan had painted her eyelids in small 
black and white squares, and called attention to 
her horrible decoration with nods and becks and 
wreathed smiles, pointing proudly to her eyes. 

She hasn’t always been so willing to sit quiet 
among the women,” chuckled Strath-Ingram as 
the decorated creature caught his eye and broke 
into peals of eldritch laughter. 

“ Oh, you terrible old lady, you don’t know 
how wicked you look,” said Winnie; “ but I wish 
I could buy your necklace: the turquoise in the 
silver is beautifully barbaric.” 

Each and every woman wore necklaces; four 
was the most usual number, but many had seven 
or eight — commonplace adornments for the most 
part, mere chains with pendent rows of rupees 
and eight anna bits, but some were old and de- 
lightful, quaintly-patterned bosses and plaques of 
silver, with unexpected incidents of coral and tur- 
quoise. 

“ You couldn’t wear a great lumpin’ thing 
like that.” 

“ I shouldn’t try. I should give it a thor- 


62 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


ough bath with carbolic soap, like Mrs. Tykes^ 
jampanies ; she told me yesterday that they have 
one every week, and I am to be sure and see that 
mine do the same. Then I should put it on the 
silver table in my drawing-room, and it would 
make me happy every time I looked at it.” 

“ Most women would find a mirror did that 
for them if they had Mrs. Edwards’ face,” re- 
marked Strath-Ingram with a vocal flourish. 

“ Oh, how charming! what do you say in re- 
turn for a pretty speech like that, Captain Yeatt? 
I can only blush.” 

Do you think he gets so many compliments, 
then? ” asked Curtis, who was feeling neglected. 

“ Yes, I thought they went with the post of 
A.D.C. like Windsor uniform.” 

“ Oh, you’re makin’ fun of me.” 

Winnie looked pathetic. 

“ I’m sure you are all making fun of me, and 
I hate being teased. Has anyone seen Miss Ross- 
lyn lately? I’ve lost her.” 

‘‘She’s all right; she’s gone off with Mrs. 
Myles. Do you like chaperonin’ girls? ” 

“ Miss Rosslyn generally chaperons me and 
Cripps; she is very good to us on the whole. It’s 
a nuisance to take girls to dances, though; they 
always want to come home before I do.” 

“ Ho, ho, I can quite believe that, Mrs. Ed- 
wards! ” 

Colonel Strath-Ingram had that false air of 
youth which is imparted by a thin figure, and his 
orange-tawny hair had clung to him with a con- 


A SUNSHINY WORLD. 


63 


stancy worthy of a better colour; but his red 
face was deeply wrinkled, and when his frequent 
laugh closed his small eyes, the lines round them 
were many and evil. 

“ I say, they’re goin’ it here,” said Yeatt. 

Two men were performing a very funny dance, 
to the delight of all beholders, on a piece of 
rough sloping ground. One of the dancers was 
an old man wearing a dirty blanket as a cloak; he 
did fantastic steps; he flung round in dizzying 
circles; he wound his arms, snapping his fingers; 
and when the last thump of the drum brought 
the music to an end, he flung himself into his 
partner’s arms with a fine burlesque of a stage 
embrace. He was led to a seat on a boulder, evi- 
dently exhausted and very -dizzy, coughing with 
his exertion, but chuckling with satisfaction at 
its success. 

“ He’s been a famous dancer in his youth,” 
said Strath-Ingram. 

Even in his ashes dwell their wonted fires,” 
said Winnie. 

Hullo, I’m wanted; his Ex. is movin’. ’Bye, 
Mrs. Edwards; see you later;” and .Yeatt re- 
turned to his Viceroy. 

“ You are coming to Lady Percival’s tea, 
aren’t you? ” said Curtis; “ the Nook isn’t far off, 
and it’s such a pretty place.” 

Have I been invited? ” 

Now, that’s too bad; I wrote your card my- 
self.” 

So you did; I wanted to see if you remem- 


64 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


bered. Ah, there is my chaperon; — Janet, we 
are going on to Lady Percival’s garden-party; 
it’s only a mile or so quite straight up that hill. 
Am I as untidy as I feel? ” 

“ Venus robed and crowned,” said Strath- 
Ingram. 

“ In a covert coat and a solah topee. Poor 
Venus! Do you think you could find Two and 
Two for me? The saddle-cloth is black, with a. 
.big white monogram; the groom is also black, 
and sometimes answers to the name of Dunni.” 

“ Well, are you being amused? ” said Lilian 
Myles. 

“ To the top of my bent. Is your husband 
here? I have not seen him.” 

“ No, he was far too busy to come; he always 
spends a holiday in doing arrears of work. I’ll 
bring Janet up to the Nook; don’t wait for us.” 

“ That’s very good of you. Oh, thanks. Cap- 
tain Curtis; the Colonel is looking for my pony.” 

Curtis moved away on aimless feet, hesitated 
for a perceptible moment, and then went quickly 
towards a slender girl in a riding habit. 

“ How do you do. Miss Ivey? ” he said hastily. 
“ I haven’t seen you all day. Have you just 
come? ” 

“ W e came to lunch, like everybody else,” said 
Nancy. 

And he could have told her that she had 
reached Sipi at ten minutes to two, with a clus- 
ter of pink wild-roses in a buttonhole of her gray 
habit. They were gone now, and he wondered if 


A SUNSHINY WORLD. 65 

she had given them to someone, or only thrown 
them away. 

“ May I find your pony for you? ” 

“ No, thank you; one of mother’s jampdnies 
has gone for it.” 

Nancy’s blue eyes had an almost disconcerting 
directness of gaze, and her colouring was so deli- 
cately and absolutely fair that it recalled and jus- 
tified the pretty old-time simile of roses and 
lilies. The heavy coil of her hair was a very pale 
brown, of the tint that shows flaxen lights, not 
golden. 

“ It has been a delightful day,” she said, “ only 
a little too hot.” 

“ May I ride up the hill with you? Surely 
you are coming to Lady Percival’s? ” he said, on 
the principle of “ treating resolution,” for he had 
carefully avoided her during long hours. 

“ No; we are going straight home. Mother 
has a headache. Yes, dear, I am quite ready. 
Good-night, Captain Curtis.” 

He was dismissed, and he found a’ poor pleas- 
ure, or, rather, a slight satisfaction, in betaking 
himself and his bay pony to interrupt Strath- 
Ingram’s conversation with Mrs. Edwards. 

As the road widened, they were passed by a 
girl in a gray habit, riding a brown Arab; and 
the girl had time to notice the brilliance of Win- 
nie’s glistening hair, and the dusty texture a 
side-light betrayed on her pink cheek. 

“ She must be a horrid woman, and he has 
been with her all day long,” thought Nancy. 


66 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“ Ton my word,” said Strath-Ingram mus- 
ingly, “ there’s something about the sunset — I 
don’t know what it is — that always affects me.” 

“ Makes one feel one’s getting old,” said Cur- 
tis viciously; “ that’s what I think about it.” 

He was watching the sweeping curves of the 
Simla road, where a gray habit was still visible. 

“ It makes me long for my tea,” said Winnie. 
“ Take care. Colonel Strath-Ingram; keep a little 
further off. Two and Two kicks.” 


CHAPTER V. 

“ LAMPS ABOVE AND LAUGHS BELOW.” 

“ Spread forth thy golden hair 
In larger locks than thou wast wont before, 

And emperor-like decore 
With diadem of pearl thy temples fair.” 

Drummond of Hawthornden. 

It was a proclaimed fact before the end of the 
Simla Week, which is the last week in May, that 
Mrs. Edwards was one of the pretty women, and 
one of the successes of the season, if, indeed, she 
was not the prettiest woman and the most 
marked success. She was soon fitted with a nick- 
name, and half was given her by a woman and 
half by a man; hence the contradiction of terms, 
the “ Pinchbeck Goddess.” The title was con- 
ferred upon her at the Birthday ball after this 
fashion: Colonel Strath-Ingram, gorgeous in full- 
dress uniform, had trodden a measure— a duty 
lancers — with Mrs. Alehin, the wife of an eminent 
civilian, and at its close conducted her to the 
nearest seat without pretending to desire a more 
secluded position. Winnie passed them, radiantly 
pretty in white brocade, with a band of diamonds 
like a crown above her brow, and a huge fan of 
ostrich feathers laid lightly against her beauti- 
ful throat as she looked up at her tall partner. 
67 


68 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


Stratli-Ingram murmured audibly: 

“ She moves a goddess and she looks a 
queen.'' 

Mrs. Alehin, who resembled Benedick in that 
she could sometimes show sparks that were like 
wit, flashed quickly: 

A goddess, and painted — a Pinchoeck God- 
dess!" 

“ That's just it — hit off to the life," chuckled 
Strath-Ingram, looking down at the little lady's 
sleek, dark head and sharp, white face, and won- 
dering whether she knew that those who did not 
call her the Pickled Walnut " styled her the 
Acid Drop." “ Splendid, Mrs. Alehin! " he con- 
tinued; “ let's have some more. I've often wanted 
to know who it was gave people their clever nick- 
names, but I never hoped to hear them at first- 
hand like this." 

Mrs. Alehin smiled complacently. There was 
an unexplained distinction about amusing Strath- 
Ingram; people had a tradition of thinking more 
highly of him than he deserved, and this was 
the first time that ever she had roused him to 
animation. 

“ Well, there is the ‘ Lily Maid,' " she said, in- 
dicating with a glance the charming head of 
Nancy Ivey shining out against a background of 
yellow curtain. 

“ ‘ Lily Maid? ' Why, the girl's got one of 
the best complexions I’ve seen for a long time: 
she’s as pink as a rose." 

“ Yes, I know; but it’s her neck, and the way 


LAMPS ABOVE. 


69 

she holds herself. Besides, don’t you remember 
‘ Elaine the fair, Elaine the lovable, Elaine the 
Lily Maid of Astolat ’ ? she makes me think of 
that.” 

He assented, but was evidently not amused, 
and Mrs. Alehin hastened to metal more attrac- 
tive. 

Here comes the ‘ Unnecessary Evil,’ ” she 
whispered, as Mrs. Bertie Vernon swept by, stout 
in pink satin, with an agonizing waist, a jangle of 
sequin trimming, and a heavy waft of White Rose 
perfume. 

Strath-Ingram’s responsive chuckle was so 
economically long drawn out that it lasted until 
the first bar of the next dance. 

The fine rooms at Viceregal Lodge, which, 
unlike most Indian ballrooms, need no temporary 
decorations of draperies, flags, or flowers, were 
filled by a distinctly good-looking crowd. No- 
body was very old, and many were quite young. 
The gowns made a pretty show, and there was a 
dazzle of full-dress uniforms. The scarlet coats 
far outnumbered the black ones, and several 
officers from a Highland regiment, walking with 
the important little swagger that a kilt gives its 
wearer, added the picturesqueness of their plaids, 
and the brown glow of cairngorms in dirk and 
sgean-diibh to the throng of bright figures. 

‘‘ It’s prettier than I expected,” said Winnie 
to Yeatt, who appeared to think that his whole 
duty as aide-de-camp was to dance with the best- 
looking women present. “ It’s a very good place 


70 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


for a ball, and the way the light comes through 
that ceiling is charming.’^ 

“ They’re gettin’ used to electric light now. 
You should have seen the place in ’88. It was 
my first year in India. I came up on leave just 
after the Viceroy (Dufferin he was then) moved 
in here. You see, they’d only had kerosene 
before, and for the first few dances here you 
never saw such a shabby-lookin’ lot. A dress 
that ’ll look awfully well by lamplight just 
goes to rags when you get the electric light on 
to it.” 

“ Many thanks for the warning; I’ll keep my 
rags for wearing by lamplight.” 

‘‘ Oh, come now, Mrs. Edwards — your rags; 
why, you haven’t got any.” 

“ Yes, I have — lots. I suppose we are all 
wearing new gowns to-night; there is a best bib 
and tucker air everywhere. Oh, look! Miss 
Rosslyn is sitting out, and so are several other 
girls, though about thirty men are decorating the 
wall within a stone’s-throw. You can’t have been 
doing your duty in the way of introducing. I 
think I had better set you free to mend your 
ways.” 

“ Introducin’? I should think not. It’s quite 
gone out; we never think of doin’ it.” 

“ Rather hard on the new arrivals,, who know 
no one.” 

“ Oh, that’s their look-out.” 

“ What is the good of an aide-de-camp, 
then? ” 


LAMPS ABOVE. 


71 

Yeatt looked stern for a moment; then smiled 
kindly, as at a forward child. 

“ Chaffin' again; you do roast me most aw- 
fully. Miss Rosslyn’s not bad-lookin' — nice eyes 
and lots o' hair. Have you known her long? " 

‘‘ Yes, for ages." 

“Pity she doesn't get married! Hard lines 
on her." 

“ She is engaged to one of the nicest men I 
know," said Winnie a little sharply, resenting his 
tone. 

“ Really? Where is he? " 

“ In Australia, somewhere near a place that 
sounds like the chorus of a comic song — Bunki- 
boodle something." 

“ Long way off. Has he been there long? " 

“Yes, some years. He is very hard up, of 
course." 

“ Mostly are. Look here, Mrs. Edwards: you 
tell people that Miss Rosslyn is engaged, and 
she'll have a much better time, you see." 

“ She wears a Mizpah ring, with letters about 
an inch high. Isn't that information enough?" 

“ Oh, I don't suppose many people look at 
her hands. They know she's not married, and 
see she isn't a chicken, you know, and so they 
fight shy of her — see? " 

“ Yes, I quite see. Shall I advise her to wear 
her ring in her hair? " 

“ Well, I knew a woman once who did that — 
Lady Guenny Rodster, Lord Clankelton's second 
daughter, the one that married Barry Rodster. 


72 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


She had some blazin’ rings — great big marquise 
things — and she used to twist little curls through 
’em, and pin ’em on the top of her head.” 

“ She did not believe in hiding her light under 
a bushel, evidently. Tell me who is that pretty 
creature who has just gone by with Captain 
Curtis? ” 

“ That’s Miss Ivey, Nancy Ivey; her father is 
a judge somewhere or other.” 

“ And is she as sweet as she looks? ” 

“ You’d better ask Curtis that, Mrs. Edwards. 
I never go in for girls myself, ’tisn’t my style.” 

‘‘ Indeed? I am not sure that I admire your 
taste.” 

‘‘ I tell you what,” went on Yeatt complacent- 
ly: I don’t believe in the whole of last season I 

danced once with a girl, except his Ex.’s daugh- 
ters now and again, and that’s different.” 

“ You must have broken the record for bad 
manners that season.” 

Yeatt laughed in all simplicity. 

You are awful fun, Mrs. Edwards; one never 
knows what you are goin’ to say next. Let me 
fan you. That’s a jolly sort o’ fan; I like one 
that you can’t see through.” 

He had drawn his chair very near hers, and 
leant towards her in a rather exaggerated way. 
She saw through an open door the melancholy 
face of a sallow girl in a bright blue gown, who 
sat alone enviously watching the brilliant couple. 

“ You think I am a horrible woman, flirting 
merrily, and listening to all sorts of interesting 


LAMPS ABOVE. 


73 


and exciting things. If you only knew, dear!’' 
thought Winnie. 

“Won’t you really let me have No. 13?” 
said Curtis to Nancy. 

“ No, I can’t; we are going away directly 
after supper.” 

“ You always go away so early.” 

“ Do we? I hate feeling quite tired out the 
day after a dance.” 

“ Are you coming to the matinee on Satur- 
day? ” he asked. 

“Yes; and you are acting in it, aren’t you? 
vSO you can tell me all about it. I have never seen 
' Cupid’s Client ’; is it pretty? ” 

“ It’s rather silly, like most of these operettas; 
but the music’s not bad, and Mrs. Edwards’ part 
suits her splendidly. She is the only lady in it, 
you know, and her dance at the end is Ai.” 

“ Really! ” said Nancy. 

Nancy had danced every dance, but the roses 
in her cheeks had hardly deepened, and her fair 
hair was perfectly neat. Her white silk gown was 
daintily plain and simple, and she carried a posy 
of white wild “ lilies of the mountains ” that, like 
herself, had retained their sweet freshness in spite 
of the heated rooms. 

“You seem quite to have given up Jakko; 
where do you go now for your rides? ” asked 
Curtis, after a little pause. 

“ Oh, different ways; there are a good many 
roads.” 

“ We are trying to get up some tilting at 
6 


74 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


Annandale on Tuesday afternoons,” he said; 

won’t you come and practise sometimes? Lady 
Percival will have tea going, and there will be 
lots of people that you know. Mrs. Edwards 
is very keen on tilting; she says she means to 
come every time.” 

I don’t know Mrs. Edwards,” said Nancy, 
straightening her white throat. 

“ She’s awfully nice; hasn’t she called on your 
mother? ” 

“ Yes, she put a card into mother’s box, and 
mother put a card into her box; one never meets 
after two box-calls. I’ve noticed.” 

“ I’m sure you’d like her,” persisted Curtis 
tactlessly. 

“ I hear the next dance beginning,” said 
Nancy. 

“ You seem to be doing a good deal of sit- 
ting out this evening. Miss Rosslyn,” said Mrs. 
Tykes. 

She wore a long-shouldered, tight-sleeved 
black satin garment of the early eighties, and a 
sudden red feather gambolled and waved above 
her smooth hair. 

“ I am not fond of dancing, and I know very 
few people,” said Janet. 

“ Your friend Mrs. Edwards seems to know a 
good many; she has been surrounded all the 
evening.” 

“ Yes, Winnie gets' on so well with every- 
body; ” and Janet smiled at the graceful figure 
that whirled past them. 


LAMPS ABOVE. 


75 

“ She might spare you a few of her partners, 
I should think.’’ 

She knows I should not like that, I am so 
stupid about talking to new people.” 

‘‘ That’s a very handsome gown you are wear- 
ing,” said Mrs. Tykes, suddenly pinching be- 
tween an inquiring finger and thumb a fold of 
the pale blue brocade that suited Janet’s fresh 
face so well. 

Yes, Mrs. Edwards gave it to me for a birth- 
day present; I never had such a dress before,” 
said Janet. 

“ A good black one would have been far more 
useful to you, though, and would never have gone 
out of fashion. Look at this one of mine; I have 
had it nearly ten years.” 

Janet expressed the necessary surprise. 

“ Well, I don’t know how you feel,” said Mrs. 
Tykes, “ but I should like a cup of coffee; where 
is my husband, I wonder? ” 

But Colonel Tykes, a military man who had 
waxed fat in civil employ, was hiding miserably 
behind a pillar. He had compressed the figure 
of sedentary life into the uniform of active 
days, and his sword-belt had played him false 
by breaking. He had confided his trouble 
to an unsympathetic friend, who suggested 
a temporary piecing with official red tape, 
and now waited his chance to slip away un- 
noticed. 

“ My sincerest congratulation,” said Strath- 
Ingram, as he led Winnie in to supper. 


76 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“ But why? ” she asked. On my present 
position, here at your right hand? ” 

“ That is a subject for the heartiest self-con- 
gratulation on my part, but I was complimenting 
Mrs. Edwards on this evening’s success.” 

“ Where does it lurk? ” said Winnie, looking 
up with laughing eyes from her cup of bouillon. 
“ I have been twice lamed for life dancing with 
Lord Trerowan, someone has printed a large dirty 
foot-mark on the edge of my dress, and I heard 
a woman say that I looked like an actress.” 

“There’s the success in a nutshell; all the 
men are in love with you, and, naturally, all the 
women hate you.” 

“ How delightful are sweeping generaliza- 
tions! But please don’t give me half a turkey; 
a quarter is quite enough.” 

“Your dress is simply lovely!” came in a 
friendly little whisper to her ear, as Mrs. Myles 
went out smiling over her shoulder. 

Gilbert Myles, C.S., was waiting near the door 
of the supper-room, with the weary expression he 
had worn all the evening; he did not dance, and 
balls were a duty to him, and a very irksome one. 
He had a good face of the plain, straightforward 
type; and the brown hair was beginning to re- 
cede from his square forehead. 

“ Ready at last, Lilian? ” he said; “ it’s nearly 
one o’clock.” 

“ Oh, do let us stay for one more dance,” she 
said eagerly. 

She was looking her best in a gown of prim- 


LAMPS ABOVE. 


77 

rose satin; her cheeks were flushed and her eyes 
shining. 

“ I thought we had settled that we were to 
leave at half-past twelve, and it is now nearly 
one,” he repeated. 

“ Only one more dance, Gilbert.” 

“Just as you like, then; my wishes count as 
nothing.” 

He spoke bitterly, and the light was gone 
from her face in an instant. 

“Oh no,” she said quickly; “you look so 
tired; do let's go; I don’t really want to dance 
any more.” 

“ You shall have your dance; I am not going 
to drag you away; if you will be kind enough to 
come back here when you are quite certain that 
you are willing to go home, you will find me 
waiting.” 

“ But, Gilbert, I am very tired, and I never 
meant to be thoughtless; please take me home.” 

“ Your intentions are always excellent. Go 
and have your dance; I am not interfering with 
your pleasure.” 

His mouth closed like a trap, and his wife 
turned away sighing. 

“This is No. 13,” said Curtis joyfully to 
Nancy, “and you have not gone yet; just one 
turn.” 

“ We must be quick, then; I’m sure mother- 
will be looking for me,” she said. 

They both danced well, and were in perfect 
accord. The floor was no longer crowded, and 


78 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


from the first bar to the last the dark head and 
the fair head, the boy in his red uniform and the 
girl in her white gown, circled and glided through 
a world of music and happiness. One little ten- 
dril of her hair had loosened itself, and the wind 
of their going blew it against his cheek now and 
again. Neither spoke; it was enough to move 
to music together, with a vague, undefined feel- 
ing that a misunderstanding had been dispelled. 
The ending of the waltz came as a surprise to 
them both. 

“Oh, how short that was!’’ he said; “but 
that one dance has been worth the whole evening 
to me.” 

“Yes; it’s much nicer when the floor is not 
crowded,” said Nancy, through quickened breaths. 

“ You are looking pale, though; are you very 
tired? We ought not to have danced like that 
without stopping, but I thought of nothing at 
the time. Do let me fan you; no, I shan’t break 
it.” 

“ Nancy dear, it’s getting late; are you ready 
to come? ” 

Mrs. Ivey spoke, and Curtis was not glad 
to see her, sweet-faced lady though she was. 

“ Let me go and look after your rickshaws,” 
he said; “ I’m afraid you’ll have a long time to 
wait for them.” Then, as the band struck up, 
“ Oh, I’m awfully sorry! I forgot; I’m dancing 
this.” 

“ Good-night, then,” said Mrs. Ivey; “ Nan- 
cy, have you had some soup? You are as white 


LAMPS ABOVE. 


79 

as your dress, and your eyes look huge. Plain 
child, come home at once.” 

And Nancy, who was old-fashioned enough 
to consider her mother her dearest friend, and 
her wisest and most tender counsellor on all mat- 
ters, from the conduct of life to the choice of a 
dress, laughed and went home; but not before 
she had seen that Curtis’s partner for the four- 
teenth dance was Mrs. Edwards. 


CHAPTER VI. 


MORE WHITE AND RED THAN DOVES OR ROSES ARE.” 

“ Imp of Dreams, when she’s asleep 
To her snow-hung chamber creep, 

And straight whisper in her ear 
What awake she will not hear — 

Imp of Dreams, when she’s asleep.” 

T. B. Aldrich. 

Dreams have often a distracting knack of re- 
flecting the sleeper’s most secret thoughts; and 
though the mirror held up by Imp of Dreams is 
a distorting one, there is generally likeness 
enough to sting, as a clever caricature does. 
Nancy Ivey had a vivid dream on the night of the 
Birthday ball, which left her flushed and self- 
reproachful after waking. She had attended a 
vaguely splendid entertainment held in a beauti- 
ful garden, to the music of the spheres. At first 
she was a little vexed to find that she was wear- 
ing her blue cashmere dressing-gown, and had 
her hair streaming over her shoulders,- but no- 
body seemed to notice this, and after she had 
heard an announcement that Julius Caesar had 
just come, and Henry Irving was expected, she 
entirely forgot her own appearance. She was 
trying to gather a rose, the stalk of which length- 
ened out like elastic as she pulled at it, when she 
8o 


MORE WHITE AND RED. 8l 

saw Captain Curtis looking very handsome in 
full-dress uniform. He gave her a bouquet of 
wild-lilies, and said: “You have come at last, 
Nancy; I have been trying to find you every- 
where.” And he kissed her — a long kiss — and 
she remembered the smooth feeling of the fine 
red cloth against her cheek as her head lay on 
his shoulder. A voice said: “ This is our dance.” 
And there was Mrs. Edwards, with a diamond 
crown and sceptre. They began to dance at once, 
and Nancy was in the act of hurling a stone at 
the diamond crown, when she woke to find her 
little white room filled with the morning sun- 
shine. 

The dream seemed very real, in spite of its 
absurdity, and the coarse phrasing of her least 
acknowledged thoughts almost frightened her. 
She was displeased with her blue dressing-gown, 
and looked askance at it, as though its simple 
folds held a Walpurgis Night memory. When 
she went into the next room to have chota haziri 
with her mother, she put on a white one instead. 

“ This is an early waking for you after your 
ball, dearest,” said Mrs. Ivey; “ didn’t you sleep 
well? That white gown is a little chilly for wear- 
ing in the morning; where is the blue one? ” 

“ This is quite thick cotton, mother,” said 
Nancy, kissing her. 

“ Oh yes, as thick as muslin! I wonder why 
girls are so fond of trying to catch cold.” 

Nancy’s foolish dream haunted her through 
all her little morning duties. While she arranged 


82 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


the wild-flowers the jampdnies had gathered on 
the hillsides; while she fed the fowls, and took 
care that the small ones, known to the heartless 
khansamah as “ curry-wallahs,” had their fair 
share of grain; everi while she gave her pony. 
Brownie, his daily dole of carrots, and made sure 
that he was not thinking of beginning a sore 
back, she could not forget the vivid impression 
that Imp of Dreams had brought her. She felt 
as though her untouched young lips were less 
absolutely pure than before; as for her mind, if 
it were capable of such objectionable imaginings, 
it needed discipline. She wrote three duty letters 
that had long hampered her conscience, and after 
she had practised resolutely for two hours upon 
a piano that was not quite in tune. Imp of Dreams 
fled dismayed. 

“ I am going for a ride this afternoon, moth- 
er,” she said at lunch-time; “ shall I meet you at 
the library? ” 

“ Very well, dear, only it looks a little stormy; 
do you think it is wise to ride? ” 

I always like to after a dance, and Brownie 
will be jumping out of his shoes if he gets no work 
to-day.” 

“ Please go round Jakko, then, Nancy, and I 
shall know you have a good road all the way; it 
frightens me to think of your riding alone 
through rain and thunder on a narrow unfenced 
path.” 

It’s just as well,” thought Nancy, while she 
was dressing; “if I never go round Jakko, it 


MORE WHITE AND RED. 


83 


would look as though I was afraid of meeting 
him, and probably he’s never there now. I dare 
say he goes down to Annandale with Mrs. Ed- 
wards, and it doesn’t matter to me in the least 
degree what he does. I shall put on my old blue 
habit, it’s quite good enough, and the round felt 
hat that doesn’t suit me; I really ought to wear 
it out.” 

Brownie pricked delicate ears, and snorted 
and flourished his tail with a great pretence of 
speed, when they started, but he was rather lazy 
in reality, and disliked solitary rides more than 
his mistress did. The sun was hidden, and the 
sky looked threatening as Nancy crossed the 
Ridge and trotted through the Lakkar Bazaar. 
Several monkeys sitting on a roof looked down 
as she passed; one of them pulled a fiend’s face 
at her, and she shook her whip laughingly. 

Get on. Brownie,” she said; “ I shall call you 
‘ Lazy Legs,’ if you are so slow.” 

Brownie cantered briskly past Snowdon, and 
past the cottage where two of the Chief’s aides- 
de-camp lived. Nancy looked straight before 
her, not allowing her eyes to stray to the name 
that was painted in white letters on a black board 
— “ Captain Noel Curtis, A.D.C.” Noel was a 
foolish name for an Englishman. 

She met very few people whom she knew, and 
as Brownie’s pace grew slower she began to re- 
member some of the many times she had trav- 
ersed the Jakko road the year before. It was a 
beautiful road, even though the mountain ranges 


84 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


were dull masses of gray shadow, and the hill oaks 
and rhododendrons showed vividly and unnatu- 
rally green under the clouded sky; but Nancy had 
no thought for its beauty. There had been a 
delightful picnic at Mashobra last September; 
she had ridden there and back with Captain 
Curtis: that was the day when he had told 
her about his home and his people. He had 
said: “ Tm sure you’d get on awfully well 
with my father.” She remembered his expres- 
sion when he said it, and the very tone of his 
voice. 

Riding here another day, a sudden thunder- 
shower burst over the hills, and just as they 
reached this big gray rock, he insisted on wrap- 
ping her in his waterproof. What a bundle it 
made of her! He must have spent a good deal 
of his time in going round Jakko then, for if she 
came, she had been certain to meet him sooner 
or later. Last season had been a very happy one 
— because it was her first in Simla, she supposed. 
Now she was growing tired; everything was just 
the same, but with a difference. Why should a 
few months work such change, and bring avoid- 
ance instead of eager seeking, and shadowed 
speech instead of happy laughter and frank con- 
fidence? She was unchanged. 

Nancy suddenly realized that she was dwelling 
on a subject she had forbidden herself, and her 
little hunting - crop came down sharply on 
Brownie’s innocent back. 

“Oh, that was horrible of me!” she said. 


MORE WHITE AND RED. 


85 


swiftly repentant, as she stroked his soft neck. 

I didn’t mean it, Brownie, and you are as good 
as gold, and you shall have two pieces of bread 
to-night. Now go, dear — go hard.” 

They had turned the corner by San Jowli; 
the wind-swept stretch of level road called the 
Ladies’ Mile lay clear before them, and Brownie 
broke into an eager canter. Half-way along a 
stone came rolling and bounding down the steep 
green slope above. A monkey had loosened it; 
it gathered force as it came, and its last leap 
landed it close in front of Brownie. He was un- 
touched, but it startled and vexed him, and after 
two or three indignant bounds he set himself to 
gallop in a way that he knew was only allowed on 
a racecourse. Nancy sat back in her saddle as 
the wind sang in her ears, and was not frightened; 
but both her hands were needed for the reins, 
and her round felt hat broke its elastic, and blew 
off her head without her being able to save it. 
Brownie’s attempts at running away never lasted 
long, and under the tall, many-coloured cliffs, 
known as the Infernal Rocks, he allowed himself 
to be quieted. 

You are the most affected creature,” said 
Nancy. “ Have you never seen a stone before? 
Now I’ve lost my hat; there isn’t a sign of it on 
the road, and I suppose I shall have to go down 
the Mall looking like a lunatic; and it is all 
your fault. Couldn’t you see that one stone was 
not an avalanche? ” 

No one was in sight at the moment, and she 


86 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


looked about anxiously for her hat, while loos- 
ened ends of hair blew into her eyes and whipped 
her face. The hat had evidently gone down the 
khud — ^justified its name by bowling down the 
mountainside, a sheer stony descent of many hun- 
dred feet. She could not dismount and leave ex- 
cited Brownie, who was still stepping as though 
the ground were red-hot; her syce was waiting 
for her at the library two miles away, and she 
did not know to within a quarter of a mile the 
spot where she had lost her hat. 

The thought of returning bareheaded through 
Simla was terrible to her; but there seemed noth- 
ing else to be done, and whether she went on 
down the Convent Hill or back the way she had 
come, there was still a stretch of Mall to be 
braved, where she was sure to meet a number 
of people. They would think she was such a bad 
rider; it was one of the signs of a bad rider to 
lose one’s hat, and nothing could look more ri- 
diculous. Poor Nancy had a wild notion of wait- 
ing until it was quite dark, but the evenings were 
long, she would have to wait until after dinner- 
time, and her mother would be very anxious. 
Besides, somebody was bound to pass in a few 
minutes — somebody who would pity her and 
laugh at her. 

She heard the noise of rickshaw wheels, and 
looked back quickly, to recognise Mrs. Edwards’ 
magpie liveries. 

“ The very person I dreaded,” she thought. 

But I don’t care; she can make fun of me if 


MORE WHITE AND RED. 87 

she likes. I won’t seem to run away; I’ll ride 
slowly past her.” 

She drew herself up, and tried to look digni- 
fied; but the wind would blow her hair into her 
eyes. 

“ I hope you haven’t had an accident, Miss 
Ivey,” said Winnie, stopping her rickshaw. 

“Thank you; I have only lost my hat,” said 
Nancy stiffly. 

“ But one of the jampdnies shall pick it up 
for you.” 

“ I don’t know where it is; it may be any- 
where down the khud. My pony tried to bolt, 
and in stopping him I lost it.” 

“ They shall look, and they will be sure to 
find it.” 

Three of her people, with an obedient start, 
went through the railings, and scattered them- 
selves amongst the stones on the hillside, but the 
hat was not found. A roar of distant thunder 
reverberated heavily round the circle of the hills. 

“ It really doesn’t matter. Tell them not to 
trouble any more; I’ll go home quickly,” said 
Nancy. 

But her face was sadder than she knew. 

“You mustn’t indeed; there’s a storm com- 
ing, and you would catch a fearful cold,” said 
Winnie. “ Besides, you’ll meet lots of people on 
their way back from tennis at Ptterhof.” 

“ I don’t know what to do.” 

“ I know; have this.” And Winnie took off 
the black sailor hat she wore. “ It won’t look 


88 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


strange; it’s perfectly plain. I’ve seen you rid- 
ing in a white one like it.” 

“ Oh yes; but what will you do if I take your 
hat?” 

'' I’ll have the rickshaw hood up, and go 
straight home; or, better still, this will do for a 
bonnet — anything does for a bonnet.” She un- 
pinned a bow from her throat — a trifle of kilted 
black chiflon, edged with white lace — and con- 
sidered it laughingly. “ Two pins there. Jam- 
pdniy give these long pins to the miss sahib. You 
will want them for fastening the hat with. Now, 
if I only had a flower to put at the back! Why, 
I forgot; here are two white roses in my belt — 
the very thing! There! does that look very 
funny with a veil round it? ” 

She frankly produced a hand-glass from her 
rickshaw pocket, and arranged the little make- 
shift on her gleaming hair; then she gave the 
glass to Nancy, saying: 

“ Put your hat on quick, dear, and no one will 
know.” 

“ It is so kind of you; I don’t know how to 
thank you,” said the girl fervently. 

“ It’s nothing; I’m glad I happened to be 
wearing a sailor. Look, the storm’s coming; 
good-bye.” 

“ She’s a dear,” thought Nancy, “ a real dear! 
and I never thought she was a woman who would 
do that sort of thing. How pretty she looked 
with the little black bow on her head; and, oh! 
I hope she won’t tell anyone.” 


MORE WHITE AND RED. 


89 


There was a quick clatter of hoofs, the sound 
of someone riding swiftly up the steep hill that 
Brownie was picking his way down, and a gap 
in the trees showed her who the rider was. 

‘‘ I suppose he is trying to overtake her,’’ she 
thought. 

‘‘ How do you do. Miss Ivey? ” And the bay 
pony was pulled up so suddenly that the pebbles 
spurted round his feet. “ You are going the 
wrong way; won’t you turn and come back by 
the Ladies’ Mile? ” 

“ This is my nearest way, and there is going 
to be a bad storm,” said Nancy sedately; but she 
could not prevent her eyes from shining, or her 
cheeks’ pink from deepening. 

“ Let me come with you, then, for I know 
Brownie doesn’t like thunder.” 

“ I have had one accident to-day, so I am not 
likely to have another,” said Nancy, suddenly de- 
termined to tell her own little story. If she was 
to be made ridiculous in the eyes of Noel Curtis, 
she preferred to do it herself. 

“ An accident? Good God! you haven’t been 
hurt? ” 

Nancy explained, giving much praise to Mrs. 
Edwards; and yet it pleased her to find that 
Curtis attached no importance to her kindness 
and a great deal to Brownie’s behaviour. 

What does that beast mean by trying to 
bolt? ” he said, frowning at Brownie, who was 
peacefully waiting his opportunity of giving Bay 
Rum a friendly bite; '' I always tell you you don’t 
7 


90 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


work him enough. Do send him over to me to- 
morrow morning, and I’ll give him a good spin 
on the racecourse; that will take the wickedness 
out of him.” 

“ Poor old Brownie! he doesn’t know what 
wickedness is. The stone hurt his little feelings. 
Here comes the rain at last.” 

They stopped at a sheltered turn of the road, 
where a tangle of ilex and rhododendron shielded 
them from the heavy drops. The thunder crashed 
in the valley, and echoed from ridge to ridge like 
signal-guns answering each other. The day had 
been sultry, but now a cool little breeze brought 
them the fresh smell of the drinking earth. The 
rain was soon over, and the sun’s last rays pat- 
terned the road before them with leafy shadows. 

“ It’s quite early, and it means to be a fine 
evening,” he said; “ shall we go round Elysium? 
Oh, do come; there is lots of time.” 

The mountains were lovely in the sunset light, 
the mosses and wild-flowers spangled with little 
water-drops, and the pines freshly green and 
beautiful. Man and maid went round Elysium 
together, and the world was very good. 


CHAPTER VIL 


“ AWAY, AWAY TO THY SAD AND SILENT HOME.” 

“ And such as you were, I took you for mine : 

Did not you find me yours, 

To watch the olive and wait the vine. 

And wonder when rivers of oil and wine 
Would flow as the Book assures? 

“ Well, and if none of these good things came, 

What did the failure prove ? 

The man was my whole world, all the same, 

With his flowers to praise, or his weeds to blame, 

And either or both to love.” 

Browning. 

“ Be the welcome one! ” said Winnie to Mrs. 
Myles, at a quarter to two on a June day. “ I 
am all alone, with no one else but me. Janet has 
gone to feed chickens or something with Mrs. 
Tykes; that woman is mad about feathered fowl: 
she smells of the perch.” 

“ I only looked in for a minute to ask 


No, you didn’t; you are going to stay to 
lunch, and out you don’t go, as we say to Cripps, 
till four o’clock at the earliest. I have hardly 
seen you to speak to since we left the ship.” 

‘‘ You always have so many engagements.” 

“ Not now; I am a person of infinite leisure, 

' 91 


92 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


because ‘ Cupid’s Client ’ is over. And what 
have you been doing? ” 

“ Nothing; sitting behind a shut door and 
shirking all my calls.” 

“ But why? ” 

‘‘ Nothing seems worth doing, somehow.” 

“ What is the matter with her? ” said Winnie 
gently. “ Is she feverish or neuralgic or wor- 
ried? Come and have lunch.” 

“ Take your hat off and lie down on that 
sofa,” she said when lunch was over. My dear, 
what have you been doing to your eyes? The 
lids are all white and puffy.” 

“ I was awake the greater part of last night,” 
said Lilian, stretching herself wearily. ‘‘ I sup- 
pose that is it.” 

Winnie looked at her in silence; the air 
seemed heavy with a coming confidence which it 
might be wisest and kindest to avert. 

“ Could you sleep if I kept quiet? ” she said. 
“ Won’t you try to? The world looks so differ-, 
ent after a little sleep.” 

“ No, I’m not tired in that way. I want you 
to talk to me. Did you love your husband? ” 

She spoke in a strangely impersonal voice. 
Her eyes looked beyond Winnie. She waited an 
answer as calmly as though she had asked an 
every-day question. 

“ He was a very good man,” said Winnie 
slowly. 

“ Yes; but were you very fond of him? Was 
he kind to you? ” 


THY SILENT HOME. 


93 

“ Very kind. But what imports the nomina- 
tion of this gentleman? ” 

Lilian did not notice • the attempt at flip- 
pancy. 

Was he never vexed with you? Did he ever 
tell you that he hated you, that his life was bitter 
to him because of you? 

Her voice broke, and as the tears came she 
covered her face. Winnie was still and silent, but 
Cripps, whose warm heart knew no fear of being 
intrusive, considered a hidden face a plea for his 
pity, and came instantly with anxious scratching 
paws and eager tongue. 

“ Dear beast ! ” said Lilian, smiling through 
wet eyes. I don’t generally behave in this way, 
Mrs. Edwards; I never talked like this to anyone 
before. I wonder if it helps. I shall be horribly 
ashamed of myself to-morrow, I know. It’s very 
convenient, from a man’s point of view, that it 
should be considered vulgar, or worse than vul- 
gar, for his wife to speak of her domestic unhap- 
piness.” 

I suppose it is,” said Winnie slowly, wonder- 
ing how best to steer past the looming rocks of 
tragedy. 

You have never needed to think of it,” said 
the woman with the swollen eyelids, looking en- 
viously at Winnie’s pink-and-white face; “but 
who is there for an unhappy woman to confide in 
if she breaks down, and has not strength enough 
to keep her troubles to herself? ” 

The pause she made was merely rhetorical, 


94 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


for the pent-up thoughts of many days were 
eagerly seeking the relief of words. Winnie was 
silent because she understood. 

‘‘ It wouldn’t be fair to tell my own people, 
for they really love me, and it would make them 
unhappy; besides, they would be prejudiced 
against Gilbert, and that would hurt me, and my 
husband’s family would say it was all my own 
fault.” 

“ I do wish that I could believe whole-heart- 
edly that anything in this world was all the fault 
of one person; it must be a very complete and 
satisfying belief,” said Winnie. 

“ If one were even to hint at that sort of trou- 
ble to a man,” went on Lilian, “ it would simply 
be equivalent to asking for kisses.” 

“ Yes, they are a man’s one form of sympathy 
and consolation for a pretty woman — or a plain 
one either, I dare say,” said Winnie, throwing 
back her head; “ men’s tastes are not exacting.” 

“ I would not mind if our quarrels were about 
serious matters,” said Lilian, following her own 
train of thought ; “ but they are about such silly 
things, and mere trifles lead to terrible conse- 
quences. We don’t speak the same language, he 
and I. Do you think it is bad for a woman to 
lose her illusions? ” 

They are the flesh that hides the skeleton, 
and a fleshless skeleton is a very hideous thing,” 
said Winnie. 

“ I think I could manage without them in the 
present and future if he would only spare me the 


THY SILENT HOME. 


95 


ones in the past. You don’t know how I envy 
a woman who has had an unfortunate love affair,” 
said Lilian vehemently. 

“ I know what you mean; but it is not always 
a garden charmed from changing.” And Winnie 
thought of a thin-faced young clergyman. 

It would have been to me. If I had not mar- 
ried Gilbert, I should have worshipped his mem- 
ory for the rest of my life.” 

“ You mean if you had never married? ” 

‘‘No; I dare say I should have married some- 
one else, and when he was unkind to me — I sup- 
pose I am a woman no one could live happily 
with; I have been told so often enough — I should 
have thought, ‘ Gilbert would never have been 
like this.’ Unluckily, I never even fancied that I 
cared for anyone except him.” 

Cripps lay nestled within her arm, moaning a 
little as she pulled his ears, but suffering the lib- 
erty for the sake of his position on the forbidden 
sofa. Her voice was quick and commonplace, as 
though she wished it to veil her words. 

“ I have no memories to fall back upon. I 
pretend sometimes that Gilbert died, and I mar- 
ried someone else — he is very like someone else 
often — but it does not do me much good.” 

“ Don’t you think you are making yourself 
needlessly unhappy? ” hazarded Winnie. “ You 
told me on board ship how glad you were to be 
going back to your husband, and how long you 

had been engaged, and ” 

“ Oh yes, Gilbert was once my ideal of tender, 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


96 

resolute constancy, but he has taken pains to tell 
me since that his constancy was only because he 
was obstinate. He has a will like a piece of iron. 
What a fool I am to talk like this! But I can’t 
help it. He hasn’t spoken to me for eight days — 
this is the ninth morning — and I never meant to 
make him angry.” 

“ But, my dear girl, what have you done? 
what does he think you have done? ” 

“ I don’t know, unless it was that at the Birth- 
day ball I asked him to stay for one more dance 
after he had said he was ready to go; when I ask 
him what is the matter, he only frowns. I spend 
my days thinking of half a dozen trifles, and won- 
dering which of them can be the thing that has 
made him angry.” 

“ I suppose late hours don’t suit him,” said 
Winnie, trying to find some excuse for the absent 
one. 

“Late hours! Why, I hardly ever ask him 
to go to a dance,” cried Lilian, her voice chang- 
ing suddenly from a resigned tone, not without 
dignity, to the sharp notes of intense irritation. 
“ Gilbert always talks of his work as though he 
were the only civilian in the world. Other men 
work just as hard, and yet they go out in the 
evening. It’s not fair to me; he ought to have 
married an old woman.” 

“ He wouldn’t have liked that,” said Winnie. 

“ He wants me to behave like one, at any 
rate, and I had such a quiet time when I was a 
girl. My mother is almost an invalid, you know, 


THY SILENT HOME. 


97 


and I have never had any real fun, and now, when 
there is any amount of it going on all around 
me, I must make a point of keeping out of it all, 
or miserable things like this happen. Isn’t it un- 
kind? ” 

The querulous voice dispelled some of the 
pity Winnie felt for the sad face, though she was 
vexed with herself for being so easily swayed. 

“ I could bear anything better than silence,” 
she said, after a pause. 

“ That’s what I feel,” said Lilian, in her quiet- 
er voice; “ but one bears what one has to. I wish 
it wasn’t making me hard; I seem to spend my 
time feeding on bitter thoughts; it poisons every- 
thing.” 

“ Has there ever been any jealousy between 
you? ” 

“ Not a shadow of it on either side; that’s 
what is so absurd. If there was any tragic reason 
for my unhappiness, perhaps I should be able to 
endure it, but to have one’s life spoilt and made 
wretched by trifles and fancied slights — oh, it is 
hard! ” 

She kissed the black spot over Cripps’ right 
eye, and, putting him down, paced the room to 
and fro. 

“ There’s your Daisy’s picture looking at us 
with her great gray eyes. Dear child! I hope 
she’ll never marry. You are a happy woman to 
have a child.” 

Winnie said nothing. 

Very likely in my case it would be another 


98 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


lost illusion,” went on Lilian; “ but, of course, I 
always fancy that it wouldn’t be. I know I am 
an utter failure as a wife, but I think I could 
make a child love me.” 

You poor dear! ” said Winnie softly. 

“ You can’t guess what an ache it gives me 
to see other women’s children; it’s real physical 
pain, like a hand clutching one’s heart. I never 
trust myself to kiss a child now; I am afraid of 
breaking down and behaving like a fool.” 

Try to see the advantages of it; think how 
you are spared terrible anxiety, and the dreadful 
Indian separation just when children need their 
mothers most.” 

“ Oh yes, yes; of course I know all these 
phrases of consolation. I have so much time to 
myself — for heart-ache; I have 'freedom from 
anxiety,’ which means I can sit and wish I had 
never been born.” 

She was lashing herself with her own words, 
making no effort either to restrain or conceal 
the tears that streamed down her face, and Win- 
nie looked away with a feeling of shame, as 
though she had peered at the nakedness of sor- 
row. 

" I went to see Mrs. Malet yesterday,” said 
Lilian more quietly, after a little silence; “we 
are the same age; she has been married a few 
months longer than I have. Her baby is just a 
month old — her second baby, a plump, pink dar- 
ling, with eyes much larger than its mouth. Of 
course I pretended that I hardly cared to look 


THY SILENT HOME. 


99 


at it, and would not touch it for the world, and 
began to talk frocks with Gertie. She said that 
she was dreadfully tired of tea-gowns and clothes 
that didn’t fit, and then she looked at me, and 
said, ‘ Oh, what a lucky girl you are, Lil, never 
to have lost your slender figure! ’ It’s a grand 
piece of good fortune, isn’t it?” 

She stopped before a mirror. 

‘‘What an object I am!” she said, with a 
laugh that affected Winnie more than her tears 
had done; “ please lend me a thick veil, and for- 
give me for the way that I have been going on: 
I never did it before. I suppose I am hysterical; 
at any rate, I have a fearful headache, and every- 
thing is physical nowadays. No, thank you, dear. 
I’d rather not have any tea; I must go home and 
wash my face for half an hour with hot and cold 
water alternately — I have grown quite clever at 
hiding tear-marks — and try to look decent be- 
fore Gilbert comes back from office. I am tired 
enough to grovel, if he wants that.” 

“ I do wish I could help you in any way,” said 
Winnie, as she tied the thick veil. 

“ But you have; it was very good of you to 
let me talk. I shall not touch on this the next 
time we meet.” 

“ I understand; nor I.” 

“ Why, I thought you were going out for a 
ride,” said Janet, an hour later. 

“ Yes, I was, only I didn’t,” replied Winnie 
from the depths of the most comfortable couch; 
“ something troubled me and roused me, and 


lOO 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


made me understand that living with a cross old 
woman is not the worst grief in life. It also made 
me feel a pretender, a sham freemason who knew 
nothing of the craft.’^ 

What do you mean, Winnie? 

“ Nothing that matters, dear. Tell me news; 
did Mrs. Tykes make you cook your own lunch, 
and how do the poultry grow? 

‘‘ It is half-past ten, and I am so tired; I think 
I shall go to bed,” said Lilian that same evening. 

Her husband’s face was carefully devoid of ex- 
pression. 

“ I am going for a ride to-morrow morning,” 
she went on cheerfully; ‘‘ Sir Garnet will be fear- 
fully fresh; will you come, Gilbert? ” 

No answer, and no change in the set face. 

“ Good-night,” she said; then, with desperate 
courage, she stood very near him, and repeated, 
‘^Good-night, Gilbert. Oh, do speak to me!” 
she added, after a moment of absolute silence; 
“ do, dear! ” and she laid a light kiss on his fore- 
head. 

“ Pouf! ” he said, grimacing. 

She went quickly to her room, and began to 
undress, humming a tune the while; but the little 
show of bravado soon ended in helpless tears. 


CHAPTER VIIL 


WAS A LADY, SUCH A LADY, CHEEKS SO ROUND 
AND LIPS SO red! ” 

“ Oh, merry goes the time when the heart is young ; 

There’s naught too high to climb when the heart is young ! ” 

Janet, Pm getting lazy; I can’t settle down 
to anything. Is it the result of Simla, or only 
a reaction after having paid all my calls and seen 
the last of ‘ Cupid’s Client ’? ” 

‘‘ I should never call you lazy, dear, but you 
certainly have not done any embroidery for more 
than a fortnight.” 

Janet was lavishing dainty stitchery of white 
thread on a piece of white linen, and spoke with- 
out raising her eyes. 

Never mind; you are industrious enough 
for two. Cripps, don’t sleep so audibly; come 
here, sir.” 

Cripps rose under protest, yawned cavernous- 
ly, stretched himself fore and aft, and sauntered 
to Winnie’s feet. 

‘‘Lazy hound! Listen, Cripps. Once there 
were some cats-s-s-s-s, and they went for a walk 
and met some rats-s-s-s-s, and the cats-s-s-s-s said 
to the rats-s-s ” 

3ut here Cripps, perceiving that his finer feel- 


lOI 


102 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


ings were being played upon for no adequate 
reason, lost all interest in the story, and arranged 
himself for slumber on the hem of Winnie’s white 
gown. 

‘'Silly little dog, Cripps! and there would 
have been real chocolate later on in that story, 
if you had only had manners. We have been up 
here nearly two months, Janet; time does fly. 
How do you like it — India, I mean? ” 

“ It isn’t nearly as Oriental as I expected,” 
said Janet, wrinkling her smooth brow in the en- 
deavour to phrase her thoughts. “ It’s very nice, 
but, except for the scenery and the servants, it’s 
very English. I suppose the plains are differ- 
ent.” 

“ They look more like one’s conventional no- 
tions of India, certainly,” said Winnie; “and 
occasionally one goes to see a mosque, or or- 
ganizes a picnic to an emperor’s tomb, but I 
think one is no whit nearer to any inner signifi- 
cance.” 

“ I think that is a pity.” 

“ So do I, but what can we do? The very 
strong walls of custom, prejudice, and ignorance 
bar us from any true knowledge of native life — 
we women especially; and let it be remembered 
that these bars are as much on the other side as 
on ours. There are exceptions, of course, but 
most people are not exceptional,” said Winnie 
slowly. 

“ Indian servants are much better than I had 
expected,” said Janet, passing from vague visions 


SUCH A LADY. 


103 


of zenanas and palaces to a subject on which she 
felt herself competent to speak. 

“ They are mysterious people; we know noth- 
ing about them beyond the fact that they are 
content to employ a few hours each day in serv- 
ing us — service is only a little incident in their 
lives. We do not house them, we do not feed 
them, we cannot tend them if they are sick, ex- 
cept by giving them papers of quinine, or packets 
of tea, or a letter to take to the hospital. One 
of the jampdnies is sure to fall ill when the rains 
come, and he will send in an empty salmon-tin, 
or a jagged-edged can that once held two pounds 
of peaches, to fetch a few drops of chlorodyne.” 

“ Oh, Winnie, surely you would let the poor 
thing have it in a wineglass? ” 

‘‘ One of our unclean wineglasses! The poor 
thing would indignantly send it back to me, and 
feel dreadfully insulted, which is a little alienat- 
ing. Why, there is a rickshaw turning in here, 
and it is not calling-time yet; who is our friend? ” 
I’ve been meaning to come and see you for 
ever so long, only I could never find a minute to 
spare,” cried Mrs. Bertie Vernon, entering un- 
announced. 

“ That’s very good of you,” said Winnie, while 
Janet escaped unnoticed and Cripps barked loud- 
ly, for like all dogs of character and sterling 
worth, he had his prejudices. 

It was generally said of Mrs. Bertie Vernon’s 
manners and customs that, if Mr. Bertie Vernon 
did not object to them, no one else had any busi- 


104 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


ness to do so, and the same reasoning applied to 
her complexion and style of dress. She was a 
lady of excellent spirits, and her fondness for 
practical jokes and baby-games had outlived her 
youth. Her age was shrouded in mystery; popu- 
lar belief asserted her to be of a few years less 
standing than Simla Church, but older than the 
United Service Club. One thing was certain: 
viceroys, lieutenant-governors, principalities and 
powers, came and went in Simla, but through 
all chance and change Mrs. Bertie Vernon was in 
evidence every season. She would have been a 
valuable chronicle of the past if she had not made 
a point of confining her memories strictly within 
a seven-years limit. Her figure was conscien- 
tiously moulded to an hour-glass outline, her 
fiercely yellow hair was curiously dark at the 
roots, and she affronted the freshness of morning 
by the perfume of “ Ess. Bouquet.’’ 

‘‘ Your dancing was splendid in ' Cupid’s Cli- 
ent,’ ” she said, sitting down with her back to the 
light; “ everyone said it was the best thing in the 
piece. Colonel Strath-Ingram was so amusing 
about it.” 

“ Not really? ” said Winnie. 

“ Oh yes, he was; he said it was quite profes- 
sional, and you really ought to let us all into the 
secret what theatre you used to belong to.” 

“ What a compliment ! but if the dear man 
had been at home lately he would have recognised 
the usual five guineas’ worth of lessons from 
D’Auban; I hadn’t time for any more. Of course 


SUCH A LADY. 


105 

I got my skirts at a good place, though, and that 
counts a lot.” 

“ Yes, they were lovely, and everyone was 
delighted except the Pickled Walnut. I heard 
someone ask her what she thought of the play, 
and she said, in such a nasty voice, ‘ She and her 
ankles! ’ Perhaps I ought not to have told you.” 

“Oh, bless her heart!” said Winnie; “is it 
possible that she reads Browning? I must call 
on her to-morrow and find out.” 

Mrs. Bertie Vernon did not follow her mean- 
ing. 

“ She's a horrid woman,” she said; “ she can't 
stand anyone better-looking than herself, and you 
know how plain she is. She simply hates me, and 
Pm sure Pve never done anything to her.” 

“ You have existed beautifully,” suggested 
Winnie gravely. 

“You dear girl!” said Mrs. Bertie, with a 
sudden clutch at Winnie's hand; “ but what I 
really came to ask you was if you would sho^y 
me how to do those pretty steps. I always 
wanted to go in for skirt-dancing, and they’re 
sure to get up a burlesque later on.” 

“ Oh, Pm so stupid, I am afraid I couldn't 
teach you anything,” said Winnie, aghast. 

“ I pick things up very quickly; Pm sure I 
should soon get into it. Of course Pm taller than 
you,” said Mrs. Bertie, straightening her pinched 
waist; “but Pm quite slender, and as long as 
one's well proportioned, I think it's rather nice 
to be a little plump. I really have lovely ankles.” 

8 


Io6 A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 

She shot out a fat foot in a high-heeled shoe 
with so much energy that Cripps, who had been 
growling faintly behind the piano, considered 
himself challenged, and came forth to war; Win- 
nie caught him hastily and caged him under a 
wicker chair. 

“ What a nasty beast! ” said Mrs. Bertie Ver- 
non. “ But aren’t they small? People have often 
said they were sure I could wear my bracelets on 
them if I liked.” 

“ Did you ever do it? ” 

“ Oh no; it would look rather fast; but for a 
burlesque, though, anklets would be awfully 
smart. We must make them get up a burlesque 
— a real good one. They could give the proceeds 
to a charity. It wouldn’t be much for the dresses, 
and suppers after run away with a lot of the 
money. Come along, Mrs. Edwards; show me 
some steps.” 

Winnie stood up, laughing, slightly raised her 
white skirts, and flashed slender ankles as she 
wove a chain of dainty movement with her little 
feet. After a moment Mrs. Bertie, greatly dar- 
ing, pranced heavily opposite her, and Cripps 
growled and wriggled in his prison till the chair’s 
progress would have interested the author of 
“ Haunted Homes.” 

“ It’s very hard work,” said Mrs. Bertie, pant- 
ing. 

“ What you really ought to do,” said Winnie, 
pirouetting, “ is to practise exercises — practise 
every day till you are quite supple.” 


SUCH A LADY. 


107 


“ I will,” gasped Mrs. Bertie, 
ril only give you one to begin with,” said 
Winnie very gravely; “you had better practise 
it first thing in the morning: Stretch out your 
hand in front of you, quite level with your shoul- 
der, and try to touch it with your foot. When 
you can do that easily I’ll tell you another.” 

“ Yes, that’s right. I mean to really go in for 
it. Colonel Strath-Ingram says that to see a 
pretty woman dancing is what he calls the poetry 
of motion.” 

“ He’s very original,” said Winnie. 

“ Yes, isn’t he? and so clever and amusing; 
we are such friends. Of course, you know he is 
a great admirer of yours, Mrs. Edwards. I tell 
him that I am nowhere now, but I don’t think 
I shall tell you what he says in answer. I’m sure 
you wouldn’t really mind, for just think of all 
the time I have known him — more than five 
years. Jealousy is a thing I can never under- 
stand; I always tell Bertie so.” 

“ Is your husband coming up at all? ” 

“ Oh no; poor dear fellow! he can’t get away; 
he’s grilling down below, and at this time of year 
India is divided into hill stations and hell sta- 
tions, as Strath-Ingram says. The heat simply 
kills me. I never attempt to stand it; I always 
have to come away before the punkahs go up. 
Dear Bertie would be wretched if I stayed.” 

“ Yes,” said Winnie. 

“ I think he really enjoys the hot weather; it 
is such a comfort to him to know that I am safe 


io8 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


in the cool, having a good time. People are al- 
ways so good to me. I make lots of friends, and 
I really never feel lonely.” 

You are very fortunate.” 

‘‘ Do you know, I can always tell at once if I 
am going to get on well with a person,” said Mrs. 
Bertie earnestly; and Cripps, glaring through the 
wickerwork, thought the same thing. ‘‘ Now, 
the minute I saw you down at. Annandale — you 
were wearing a black-and-white dress, and an aw- 
fully smart bonnet — I said to myself, ‘ There’s 
a woman after my own heart.’ ” 

“ I feel quite overwhelmed.” 

“ Oh no,” said Mrs. Bertie encouragingly; 
but it does seem a pity that we did not meet 
sooner. Now, if I’d met you before you had made 
your arrangements for the season, we might have 
chummed together. I like a little house better 
than a hotel in lots of ways. People do talk so; 
and don’t you find it ties you down dreadfully 
having a girl with you? ” 

“ Miss Rosslyn is a very dear friend of mine,” 
said Winnie. 

“ Oh, of course that’s quite different; I know 
I looked after a girl one year, and she was an 
awful nuisance; I was perfectly thankful when 
she went back to her father.” 

Winnie bestowed a pitying thought on the 
unknown girl, and only smiled in answer. 

“ We have rather fun at our hotel sometimes,” 
went on Mrs. Bertie; “ there are some nice boys 
there; we all played Puss in the Corner and 


SUCH A LADY. 


109 


games of that sort last night till ever so late. 
You must come to dinner some day soon; I want 
to see a great deal of you. Is that clock of yours 
right? I have an appointment with my dress- 
maker at half-past twelve — such a fiend of a wo- 
man! She’s making me the simplest little ball 
frock, and this is the seventh time I’ve been to 
be fitted. But I know I’m very particular about 
clothes; I simply cannot and will not take a thing 
unless it fits like a glove; it’s much the best way. 
Well, good-bye; mind you come and see me 
soon.” 

“ Oh, Cripps, I beg your pardon,” said Win- 
nie to the sulky lump that appeared when she 
moved the wicker chair. “ It was a very ill-used 
dog then; and it thought it was saving own 
missis from a great big wild elephant, it did. 
Sue, Cripps! Fetch it! Cats! rats! rabbits!” 

“ Gone at last? ” said Janet, returning; what 
did she want? ” 

“ To tread the mazy. Were you frightened 
when the house shook? I nearly sent you up a 
chit to say that it was not earthquakes, only Mrs. 
Bertie Vernon trying to skirt-dance. 

“ And every time she give a jump, 

She make the windows sound ! 

Janet, I’m succeeding too well. I want to be in 
the swim and still keep one foot on the ground, 
and instead of this Mrs. Bertie Vernon says I am 
a woman after her own heart. Pity me, Char- 
mian.” 


no 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


'' Didn't you feel very angry? ” 

“ No, I was delighted in one way; but I don't 
quite like it. I believe there is not the least harm 
in her, really, only if you carry silliness far enough 
it becomes a crime; and I think she is kind- 
hearted, but there is an atmosphere of stale per- 
fume about her last night’s pocket-handkerchief 
— ouf! Yet she is a thrifty soul.” 

“ Thrifty? I have never seen her wear the 
same dress twice.” 

“Never mind; she atones for that in her 
makeup, which might be chalk and brickdust and 
burnt matches: I believe it is. I ought to send 
Nugent over as a missionary to the heathen.” 
She looked at her own face in a mirror. “ Why, 
compared with that woman my maqtiillage is like 
the radiant bloom of infancy.” 

Janet shook her head without speaking. 

“ But there is a fatal resemblance, all the 
same,” went on Winnie — “ a likeness to make one 
shudder. Janet, I am going upstairs to wash my 
face.” 

“Oh, do, Winnie; wash it all off!” cried 
Janet eagerly. 

“ I will, and I shall look like a good, honest, 
respectable ghoul for the space of half an hour; 
at the end of that time I prophesy that I shall 
send: for Nugent, and I am quite certain that 
Nugent will scold me.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


LIGHT-LOCKED WITH EYES OF DANGEROUS GRAY.” 


“ One mere day, we thought ; the measure 
Of such days the year fulfils. 

Now, how dearly would we treasure 
Something from its fields, its rills. 

And its memorable hills ? ” 

A. C. Thompson. 

Do you remember Major Gilmour, Nancy? 
You used to dance with him last year,” said Mrs. 
Ivey. 

“ A tall man, mother, with a very nice face? 
Yes, I recollect him; an R.A., isn’t he?” 

“ No; R.E. I see he has come up again; his 
card was in our box three days ago. I think we 
will ask him to dinner for the tenth.” 

Is that the night you mean to ask Mrs. 
Edwards? ” 

“ I’m not quite sure. She seems pleasant, 
but you have seen a great deal of her lately: do 
you think your father would like you to make 
friends with a rather fast woman? ” 

‘‘ Mother dear, she isn’t fast, and I don’t be- 
lieve she paints really; at least, if she does, she 
does it so nicely that it’s different, somehow. 
Write the note now, mammy, do.” 


Ill 


II2 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


'' I am a dutiful and obedient mother,” said 
Mrs. Ivey. 

“ You are a darling, and you shall have your 
old friend, Mr. Cornwall, to take you in on the 
tenth. Do you know. I’m so thankful that I’m 
not one little scrap like you, mammy, for if I was. 
I’m sure Mr. Cornwall would insist on marrying 
me.” 

“ Give me the address-book, Nancy, instead 
of talking nonsense. Who are Mr. Sidmon and 
Mr. Roseway? — from the RockclifI? I see you 
have written their names down.” 

“ They called the other day when you were 
out. They are subalterns, and one is the short, 
fair sort, and the other is the thin, dark kind. 
I don’t know which is which, though, for they 
came together.” 

“ We had better ask them to dinner, I sup- 
pose. Your father likes us to acknowledge a call, 
and as we are going on to the dance at Snow- 
don, there will be no trouble about amusing them 
afterwards.” 

But I shall have to dance with them.” 

“ Don’t be too sure. I dare say they won’t 
be polite enough to ask you, but we need not 
have them both at once. Shall I ask Captain 
Curtis to come? ” 

“ Why, the dance is at Snowdon, and he’ll be 
wanted. Besides,” went on Nancy quickly, “ if I 
had my way, I should never invite an A.D.C. to 
dinner; they are so conceited about their crowds 
of engagements.” 


EYES OF GRAY. 


II3 

“ I think Captain Curtis is a particularly nice 
young fellow,” said her mother; “ but, then, I am 
easier to please than you are. I am sorry that 
he will be engaged, for he seems to be one of Mrs. 
Edwards’ great admirers.” 

“ Everyone admires her, and I don’t wonder 
they do,” said Nancy enthusiastically. 

But the smile left her face. 

Alan Gilmour had come up to Simla in July 
on a piece of special duty connected with mili- 
tary works, which was calculated to keep him in 
the summer capital until the end of the season. 
He was not elated at the prospect, though he ac- 
knowledged that Simla was, on the whole, not 
a bad place to be in. He considered also that, 
since he had elected to spend a certain amount 
of his service in India, it was well to be known 
at headquarters. In pursuance of this belief, he 
had taken a month’s leave to Simla the year be- 
fore, and, having acquainted himself with the ex- 
tent of its pleasures, was prepared to accept them 
during a longer period with resigned equanimity. 
In his own secret imaginings he was a subtle 
thinker, and a creature of unrealized ideals; to 
the world at large he appeared a good fellow, who 
did not seem to know that he was handsome, 
though perhaps a little conceited about less ob- 
vious attributes. He nourished a not altogether 
healthy contempt for the land of his temporary 
adoption, and though it gave him an assured 
income for present and future, while -employing 
and developing his faculties to their fullest ex- 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


1 14 

tent, he found a certain pleasure in regretting 
his choice of a career. The life of an English- 
man in India was that of a toad in a hole — a red- 
hot hole frequently — and for an Englishwoman 
in India he was divided between pity and scorn 
— pity if her duty as wife or daughter led her to 
eat the bread of exile, scorn if she was one of the 
many light-hearted sisters, cousins, or friends 
who came out “ to see the country.” Apart 
from the vexed question of morals, he was of 
opinion that feminine complexions and manners 
underwent a well-nigh instantaneous deteriora- 
tion in the East, and he looked with scornful 
wonder at the numerous marriages that took 
place there. For his own part, having outgrown 
a few trifling heartaches, when he considered the 
possibility of sharing his future, he offered it, at 
some distant date, to an unknown girl who dwelt 
among untrodden ways somewhere in England. 
She would be very simple and gentle and quiet, 
with pretty hair drawn smoothly away from a low 
forehead, and the rest was vague. It had dis- 
passionately struck him the year before that to 
those who could tolerate the thought of marry- 
ing in India Nancy Ivey’s flower face and sweet 
voice might be very attractive; but there was no 
personal bent in this reflection. 

“ Have you been to call on the Pinchbeck 
Goddess yet?” said Yeatt to him on July 9. 

“ No; who is that?” 

“ Little Mrs. Edwards; the best-lookin’ wo- 
man up here this year, and with lots to say for 


EYES OF GRAY. 


15 


herself. Knows how to dance too — stage danc- 
in’; knows she’s got pretty ankles, and ain’t 
afraid of showin’ ’em.” 

“ Who’s her husband? ” 

“ Can’t say. He conveniently went to heaven 
some time ago. She’s out here globe-trottin’ and 
lookin’ out for No. 2; must have a good bit of 
money too. You go an’ call on her; she’s quite 
good fun, and it’s a chance for you; I’m not a 
marryin’ man myself.” 

Thus it happened that, when Gilmour found 
himself sitting next to Winnie at dinner the fol- 
lowing evening, he was forearmed with prejudice 
against her. 

She wore a black dress, with no ornaments on 
white throat or shining head, but the front of her 
bodice was encrusted with diamond brooches, and 
her arms jangled with bracelets — slender gold 
bangles, for the most part, gemmed with tur- 
quoise, moonstone and chrysoprase, ruby hearts 
and diamond initials; trinkets that looked as 
though they had histories, he disapprovingly 
thought. He noticed her tinted cheek, too, 
and how little her gleaming copper hair ac- 
corded with her black brows and dark gray 
eyes. 

“ The woman is like a jeweller’s shop, and the 
powder simply stands on her nose,” he thought, 
as he made his first remark to her, a few words 
about the weather. 

Winnie deliberately stroked her nose with a 
handkerchief, which consisted of a small oasis of 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


1 16 

lawn set in a desert of lace, and turned a smiling 
face to him. 

Is that better? ” she said. “ As for my poor 
bangles, I own I am absurdly fond of trinkets; 
but that is a taste that is allowed to savages and 
women all the world over.” 

“ I beg your pardon? ” stammered Gilmour, 
aghast. 

‘‘Ah, you confess it! Don’t be afraid; 
you did not say anything, but I am a thought- 
reader.” 

“ Why did you imagine that I ” 

“ I am not like Sherlock Holmes,” she inter- 
rupted; “ I never explain my methods. I have 
not seen you at one of the gymkhanas, Mr. Myles; 
you work much too hard.” 

“ My office goes on just the same in Simla, 
and I very much dislike getting into arrears,” said 
Lilian’s husband, who was her right-hand neigh- 
bour. 

“ It seems an anachronism to work in Simla; 
the place as I see it is a veritable Land of 
Cockayne.” 

“ My point of view is a very different one.” 

“Yes, indeed; and I have noticed that there 
is one rule all over India — men must work and 
women must play.” 

“ You have only been in large towns in the 
pleasant time of year, I suppose,” he said. “ If 
you knew a little of life in the mofussel, you would 
not talk like that; the women there have not 
much play.” 


EYES OF GRAY. 


II7 

“ It can’t be much worse than a little English 
village,” said Winnie lightly. 

“ W ell, in the English village you don’t as a 
rule have a stifling climate, constant danger of 
fever and malaria, and difficulty in getting good 
food and drinkable water,” he said, wrinkling his 
heavy brows; “ that’s what life in the mofiissil 
means for more than half the year.” 

“ I hope you have not been in places of that 
sort.” 

“ Not since my marriage, luckily; we have 
been very fortunate; but I am afraid my wife is 
not very fond of Simla; she rather shuts herself 
up.” 

His expression was very pleasant as he 
glanced across the table, where Lilian’s pretty 
head showed above a silver bowl full of red roses. 
Winnie remembered a confidence of five weeks 
before, and wondered whether he was a hypocrite 
or Lilian a hysterical self-deceiver. 

“ I think Mrs. Myles is rather lazy,” she said; 

I have been trying to persuade her to sing a 
duet with me at one of the Monday Pops, but 
all in vain.” 

Yes, she has practically given up her music; 
girls generally drop their accomplishments after 
marriage, I have noticed. I suppose the net has 
caught the fish.” 

“What a delightfully old-fashioned remark! 
Now, I have noticed that women who give up 
accomplishments generally do so because their 
husbands don’t appreciate their efforts.” 


Ilg A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 

“ That is not my experience.’’ 

“ Then, we remain unconvinced,” said Win- 
nie, with her disarming smile. “ Tell me, do the 
rains really last till the middle of September? 
How tired we shall be of living in a perpetual wet 
blanket ! I shall never want a home in Cloudland 
again.” 

“ Do you mean to stay long in India? ” asked 
Gilmour, feeling that it was necessary to say 
something to this dreadful woman. 

“ Until the end of next cold weather, I think; 
and then I really must make up my mind to face 
England again.” 

‘‘ Do you dislike England? ” 

‘‘ Oh, there are associations,” she said, with 
a sigh and pathetic eyes. 

Gilmour was silent for a moment; then he 
looked at the diamonds displayed by the bereaved 
one, and steeled his heart. 

“You seem to like Simla,” he said. 

“ Yes, I love mountains; I am never so happy 
as when I am among them; and this is one of 
the few places out here where one sees children 
— real children, not tiny babies. I do so wish 
I had brought out my little girl. Do you think it 
would have been a great risk? ” 

“ It depends very much upon her age.” 

“ She is only six; her birthday was two days 
before I left home. Poor pet! It was so sad to 
see her cry at the thought of my going; she had 
never cried on her birthday before. Do you 
know Mrs. Wilton’s little girl? ” 


EYES OF GRAY. 


II9 


Gilmour said he had not that pleasure. 

“ She is just my Daisy’s age, and has a look of 
Daisy; but she is a plump little thing, and my 
child is a tall, slender creature: she does not take 
after her father’s family in the least.” 

“ She is fortunate if she resembles her moth- 
er,” he said, speaking as one who hears his cue. 

‘‘ Oh, how nice of you! Daisy is rather like 
me, though she has dark hair, but her eyes are 
the same. I will show you her portrait when you 
call.” 

Gilmour doubted if that occasion would 
ever arrive; but the painted lady was certainly 
pretty. 

“ Can you tell me the name of that lady in 
blue with smooth hair? ” he asked, to change the 
subject. 

“ Miss Rosslyn, a great friend of mine, who 
was good enough to come to India with me.” 

Janet looked up as she spoke, and smiled at 
her — a smile of love and good fellowship that 
puzzled Gilmour. Her honest, downright face 
differed strikingly from the texture and tint of 
Mrs. Edwards’ cheeks and the suggestion of her 
whole appearance. 

“ Does Simla amuse you? ” she asked sud- 
denly. 

It’s not a bad sort of place.” 

For want of a better, you mean. What do 
you do to be superior over? do you go in for 
anything? ” 

She threw back her head as she looked at 


120 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


him, and he found the note of patronage in her 
voice keenly irritating. 

“ I suppose I do as much as most men,” he 
said quickly. “ I am in office the greater part of 
the day, of course; but equally of course I dance, 
and so on. I am rather fond of acting.” 

“ And do you sing? and if so, has Major Mor- 
ice secured you for the comic opera yet?” 

“ He was talking to me about it yesterday.” 

Ah, that’s right; tenor voices have been a 
great difficulty, and you have a tenor profile.” 

“ Oh, thank you, my voice happens to be bari- 
tone! ” 

“ Really; well, that’s nice, too. They can’t 
make up their minds between a Gilbert and Sulli- 
van and the evergreen ‘ Cloches.’ Fancy singing 
‘ Ding-dong ’ at this advanced stage of the cen- 
tury! Gracious! it’s far past nine already; I hope 
you men don’t intend to sit birling the wine long, 
or we shall all be late for Snowdon. You are 
coming, aren’t you? ” she added to Mrs. Myles, 
as they passed into the drawing-room. 

‘‘ I think not; Gilbert doesn’t care for dances.” 

Yes he does; at any rate, he was lamenting 
that you were so lacking in energy. You have 
been nowhere lately, to my knowledge; don’t be 
a hermit-crab. Mrs. Ivey, convince her; isn’t it 
very bad for one never to go out? ” 

‘‘Yes; but it is an easy habit to fall into, I 
know; I used to be very lazy before Nancy grew 
up.” 

“ You are lazy now, mother; you hardly ever 


EYES OF GRAY. 


I2I 


allow me more than two balls a week,” remarked 
Nancy. 

“ Two a week is one too many, my child.” 

Lilian only smiled, but a little later she said 
to her husband: 

‘‘ I don’t care about the dance; don’t you 
think it would be nicer to go home? ” 

“ Do as you like, dances are never any pleas- 
ure to me; but I am perfectly willing to go.” 

“ No, we won’t,” said Lilian. 

“ Well, please yourself.” 

“ It means to keep fine, after all,” she said, 
when they had parted from the others. She stood 
for a moment in the veranda of their cottage, 
watching the rickshaw lamps flashing along the 
Mall. “ It’s to be a big dance, I think,” she 
added, with a little sigh. 

“ Yes, it’s a pity you changed your mind; it’s 
a mistake never to go out, but you are such a 
perverse woman, one can never tell what you 
mean to do. I was fully prepared to go to this 
dance.” 

“ Well, I shan’t feel tired to-morrow,” she said 
brightly. 

I suppose the next thing that people will 
say will be that I keep you shut up, and never let 
you go anywhere,” said her husband gruffly. 

Oh no, Gilbert ; no one could say anything 
so silly.” 

Gilmour left his pony at the beginning of the 
narrow path that leads to Snowdon, and found 
himself walking by Mrs. Edwards’ rickshaw. Her 
9 


122 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


profile flashed upon his sight every few steps in 
the flare of the cotton-seeds that burnt in saucers 
of oil along the railings, and he was conscious of 
the heavy scent of the lilies in her bouquet. 

“ I hope you mean to let me have a dance,” he 
said; and it was not in the least what he had in- 
tended to say. 

“ Very much too late; you should have asked 
me last week. My whole programme is written 
out in ink.” 

“That’s hard lines on a new-comer: one of 
the extras, perhaps, if they have any? ” 

“They also are written out in ink! ” 

He was distinctly annoyed; he did not like the 
woman, but, still, he wanted to dance with her. 
He danced very little that evening, and as he 
stood about in the blue ballroom, which bears a 
strong resemblance to a swimming-bath, his eyes 
persistently followed the slender, bright-haired 
figure in the black gown. She seemed to spend 
half her time with old Strath-Ingram; and how 
ugly he was, with his chuckling red face! Gil- 
mour wondered that anyone could think him 
good-looking or young for his age. 

Towards the end of the evening Winnie and 
this maligned gentleman found two chairs in a 
sheltered corner, and Winnie gently unfastened 
a bracelet on her right wrist. 

“ Won’t you let me fan you? ” he asked, with 
more feeling than the occasion demanded. 
“ Can’t you even trust me to do that little thing 
for you? ” 


EYES OF GRAY. 


123 


“ I have already trusted you to the extent of 
three of my pet fans; they have gone home to 
be mended now. You don’t know how strong 
your hand is.” 

Strath-Ingram doubled a square fist, and 
looked at it complacently. 

“ It’s a man’s hand,” he said. It’s had to 
make its own way in the world. Yes, it’s strong 
enough to knock down a man and protect a 
woman, eh? ” 

Yes, indeed,” she said, with serious sweet- 
ness. 

“ It’s a man’s hand,” he said again — it was to 
be noticed that in the evening Strath-Ingram had 
a tendency to repetition — “ and it’s a strong 
hand, but it’s a lonely hand; there’s no one to 
hold it.” 

He displayed it, palm uppermost, and broad 
fingers spread. The glove had torn at the thumb, 
and his flesh showed redly through the rent. 
They were alone in the corner, and* he drew his 
chair nearer. 

I’m a very lonely man,” he said. 

And his suffused eyes were perhaps due to 
self-pity, but she winced as his breath passed her 
face. 

Oh no; you are so popular. You have so 
many friends,” she said quickly. 

“ Friends! Men I play billiards with, and bet 
with. I’ve got no true friends, and I don’t want 
any friends. What’s the good of friendship, Win- 
nie? You don’t mind my calling you Winnie, 


124 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


do you? What’s the good of friendship, when 
what I want is love? ” 

He caught her left hand. She could feel 
through his glove and her own how hot his hand 
was. His face was horribly near. A bracelet fell 
from her right wrist, and rolled on the floor. She 
sprang up with a little cry. 

“ Oh, my bracelet ! It is the one with a dia- 
mond heart — the last thing my husband gave me. 
I wouldn’t lose it for the world. Oh, Captain 
Luttrell, do help me to find my bracelet. I think 
it went over there. Have you got it? Thank 
you so much. And it isn’t even broken. How 
glad I am! Yes, this is your dance, if it’s No. 
14. Good-night, Colonel Strath-Ingram.” 

- He was astonished and vexed for a moment; 
then his views became rosy and glorious. 

“ She knows how to draw one on, the little 
devil does,” he mused tenderly. “ Trust a 
widow.” 

“ Janet! Janet! ” said Winnie, as they climbed 
their steep stairs together; “ I must write to Will 
next mail, and tell him to scold you. How often 
did you dance with Mr. Roseway? And you 
only met him for the first time this evening? ” 

“ He has been in Australia, and quite near the 
place where Will is now, so I really enjoyed talk- 
ing to him,” said Janet placidly. “ Who was the 
good-looking man that sat next to you at din- 
ner? ” 

“ A Major Gilmour. And he has no business 
to look so nice and be such a stodge. I behaved 


EYES OF GRAY. 


25 


disgracefully, but it was all his fault. I saw at 
a glance that he considered me a got-up and be- 
dizened wretch, so I apologized.” 

“ What did you say? ” 

“ I wiped some of the powder off my nose — I 
really mtist speak to Nugent about overdoing it; 
I don’t want a snowy range down my face — and 
asked him if that looked better. I said some- 
thing silly about my trinkets, too, and then I 
talked ‘ Daisy.’ I don’t care; he may think me 
a fool if he likes. He is ‘ heavy, heavy — damned 
heavy!”’ 

“ Oh, Winnie! ” cried Janet aghast. 

'' Dearest goose! must I always hold up my 
fingers as quotation marks? That’s only what 
Jingle said about his luggage. Didn’t Nancy 
look a dear to-night in her little blue frock? I 
strongly suspect that she danced five times with 
the Curtis boy; I hope her mother isn’t scolding 
her now. I shall put this bouquet in my bath, 
and then perhaps some of the sweet things will 
keep fresh till to-morrow. Lilies from Struth- 
grum! How appropriate! He was rather terrible 
this evening.” 

“ I don’t know how you can endure him at 
any time.” 

‘‘ When revenge is sweet, ’tis folly to be wise; 
but he was absurd to-night. He sat lamenting 
himself that there was no one to hold his hand. 
I can’t wonder at the lack of applicants, for if 
there ever was a pound of Oxford sausages im- 
perfectly disguised as ” 


26 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“ I am very tired, and it is getting so late,” 
said Janet, yawning. 

“Yes, and I am a wretch to keep you up. 
Take your blue eyes to bed. Good-night, dear.” 

Left alone, Winnie looked at herself in the 
glass, first smilingly, then with grave lips and 
sad eyes. 

“ You have got what you wanted,” she said 
aloud — “your little twopenny-halfpenny triumph; 
and if it tastes bitter after all, and seems hope- 
lessly trivial, you have only yourself to thank for 
it; besides, you are tired now. You will enjoy it 
all again to-morrow, and so good-night to you. 
Cripps ” — she went to the basket where the pam- 
pered watch-dog lay hunting in dreams — “ when 
you wouff in your sleep, it’s a sign that you have 
nightmare, and you deserve put-put^ succat piiU 
put, hard whipping, Cripps.” 


CHAPTER X. 

black’s the life that I LEAD Wl’ YOU.” 

“ Perhaps 'tis pretty to force together 
Thoughts so unlike each other ; 

To mutter and mock a broken charm, 

To dally with wrong that does no harm. 

Perhaps ’tis tender, too, and pretty 
At each wild word to feel within 
A sweet recoil of love and pity.” 

Coleridge. 

There were tears in Lilian’s eyes as she stood 
at the window watching her husband on his way 
to office. He knew she was standing there, but 
he did not look back. His wife had displeased 
him, and as it was necessary to punish her, he 
made himself disagreeable in all honesty and sin- 
cerity of purpose. It was his duty to discipline 
her. He bore the sword of heaven, and did not 
doubt that he was as holy as he was severe. She 
was a good girl at heart, but she needed correc- 
tion. She must learn to control her temper, to 
guard her speech. It was perhaps unfortunate 
that his course of teaching included uncontrolled 
temper and unguarded speech on his own part. 

On this particular occasion Lilian was abso- 
lutely in the wrong. The day before she had 
spoken sharply and angrily on very slight provo- 
127 


128 


A PINCPIBECK GODDESS. 


cation, and though her repentance followed 
swiftly after her offence, there had been no place 
for it. No wife ought to speak to her husband 
in that unseemly manner; she needed a lesson, 
and he intended to give her one. He had not 
spoken to her since the moment of her misde- 
meanour — four o’clock on the afternoon of the 
previous day. He wished to allow her time for 
penitential reflection. 

The culprit turned wearily from the window, 
with the sense of a familiar nightmare overpower- 
ing her. She was not indifferent to the punish- 
ments Gilbert inflicted, but she was terribly tired 
of them. She counted the stages and phases 
through which she must expect to pass before a 
peaceful life could be hoped for again, and her 
very heart grew sick. The weariness of spirit 
brought a feeling of physical oppression; she 
found herself breathing in long sighs. Her 
thoughts went round in one dreary beaten 
track. She was certainly to blame for speaking 
sharply, but the punishment would outweigh 
the crime, and she had a bitter sense of injus- 
tice. 

Half an hour’s silence and a few words of re- 
proof would have made her tenderly penitent, 
but this ominous lull, with a storm to follow, only 
angered her. It was unjust — unjust. Oh, the 
dreary beaten track! How was she to preserve 
even a decent self-respect amidst such constant 
blame? Fault-finding that included unborn to- 
morrow and dead yesterday, misjudging her mo- 


BLACK’S THE LIFE. 


129 

tives in the past, and foretelling reproof for her 
future actions! 

Her husband would have been honestly sur- 
prised by the bitterness of her thoughts,* for he 
forgot half that he said to her in angry moments, 
and considered her vindictive for remembering 
it; but it was her misfortune to remember. She 
attached too much importance to the spoken 
word, and failed to understand the peculiar re- 
serve of a nature which gave the freest expres- 
sion to anger or disapproval, but only showed 
tenderness by infrequent phrases. Her eyes were 
holden so that she could not see the true value 
of the gracious actions he cloaked in ungracious 
speech — a gauntlet with a gift in it. 

Lilian sometimes thought that she resem- 
bled a puzzled dog, not knowing whether it was 
intended to jump up or to lie still with its nose 
between its paws. She generally adopted the 
latter attitude, to save herself from rebuffs, while 
her husband often wondered, in pained silence, 
if it was his fault or only his misfortune that she 
had become so indifferent and so cold. 

She was growing accustomed to her image as 
he showed it to her in the distorting mirror of 
his mind, and it troubled her less than the un- 
dreamed-of depths she discovered in her own na- 
ture. He had taught her that, his anger once 
roused, neither tears nor prayers for pardon had 
the least effect upon him, and she found herself 
resorting to silent petty defiance — a species of 
whistling to keep her courage up. Once, indeed. 


130 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


she made a grimace at her husband’s sulky back, 
and was deeply ashamed of herself the moment 
after. Was she to grow vulgar as well as em- 
bittered? 

Round and round circled the dreary thoughts; 
something must be done to escape from them. 
She had no desire as yet to seek sympathy, and 
the recollection of her one confidence to Mrs. 
Edwards pricked and stung her. It, was a breach 
of faith which seemed to justify her husband’s 
misprision, and it should never be repeated. It 
had only happened because she was at the end 
of her forces. She was strong now, ready to ac- 
cept whatever might come, but she hoped, with 
a hope that was as fervent as a prayer, that he 
would not punish her by very long silence. 

She could not write letters; she did not feel 
able to read. She dusted her piano in a series 
of discordant crashes, and shut it with a clang. 
It was always dumb when Gilbert was; any music 
that she made at such a time would be marred 
to her by a miserable association. 

A little pile of clothes caught her eyes as she 
wandered aimlessly into her own room; the dhohi 
had brought them the day before, and she had 
not yet mended them. She acknowledged herself 
to be a careless and forgetful woman; no wonder 
that Gilbert was so often angry with her, and 
yet what did it matter? If he were not vexed 
with her for one thing, he would be for another. 
The socks and the shirts became emblems of a 
loveless yoke, of a heavy burden. It was me- 


BLACK’S THE LIFE. 


I3I 

chanical, miserable work. At home the house- 
maid would do it. Here her ayah could not set 
a stitch, and her husband objected to her hiring 
a dhirzie to do sewing by the day. He had said, 
“ What’s the good of having a wife if she can’t 
darn socks and sew on buttons? ” 

That was the view he took of her duties and 
her responsibilities. She might sit mending his 
clothes all day, and looking forward to his com- 
ing sulkily home at five o’clock. She had been 
a girl of ideals and aspirations; marriage to her 
had meant the renunciation of certain vaguely 
lofty ambitions. The needle pricked her finger, 
the worsted knotted itself into a snarl, and her 
eyes filled with tears. There! the socks were 
finished at last, and tossed aside. Now for the 
buttons. Her needle was too large. The little 
pearl button cracked in half, and she stamped 
her foot as she looked for another. Then the scis- 
sors were lost; they were not in her basket, not 
on the table, not among the shirts, not on her 
lap. She got up and shook herself;' still no sign 
of them. She was obliged to find another pair. 

A thin vest had been machine-sewn, and 
ripped at a touch; she had better bind it all anew, 
and what a long seam it looked! Did other 
women feel like this? Did they, too, sit at home 
doing little services for their husbands while they 
half hated them? That was wicked, but it was 
the truth; Gilbert was hateful. 

Surely some men were more lenient; she 
thought of two incidents in her girlhood, and 


132 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


wondered how their heroes would have treated 
her in the battle of married life. Who could tell 
what tyrannical potentialities had lurked behind 
their soft seeming, since the dearest lover of them 
all had become her taskmaster? 

She looked at the forefinger of her left hand; 
it was slightly needle-pricked, and a sudden mem- 
ory made her kiss it: it was not she who had 
kissed it once lon^ ago. He had said then that 
he hated to see it marked; he never noticed it 
now. Her thoughts escaping from the beaten 
track flew back to the past like homing doves, 
from the husband of to-day to the lover of four 
years ago, until the gallant image of what had 
been effaced the memory of the sullen looks 
across that morning’s breakfast-table. Little 
far-away memories appeared before her as clearly 
as visions: the expression in Gilbert’s eyes when 
he had said, ‘‘ I have not courage enough to face 
my life without you ”; Gilbert climbing a hedge- 
bank to gather wild-roses for her — a strong, erect 
figure and a laughing face; Gilbert kneeling with 
uncovered head to fasten her shoe-string; a thou- 
sand tender trifles. 

She could do very little for him: he it was who 
bore the burden and heat of the day while she 
sat safe and sheltered, and grudged him the speed 
of her needle. Oh, false and thankless! If every 
stitch were set in her heart, she should still be 
proud and glad; it was her privilege to tend him. 
The vest was finished, backstitched with dainty 
neatness, and she looked for more work to do. 


BLACK’S THE LIFE. 


133 


When Gilbert came home, she was embroid- 
ering initials on one of his silk handkerchiefs: he 
opened his lips to tell her that this devotion was 
very charming and effective, and closed them 
again, remembering that they were not on speak- 
ing terms. 

“ Have you had a very busy day? ” she asked. 

No answer. 

“ Shall I tell them to bring tea, Gilbert? ” 

No answer. 

Have you any plans for this evening? ” 

No answer. 

Then she understood that he was still re- 
solved not to speak to her, and kept silence 
for half an hour, smiling gently now and again 
to show that she was not sulking. Her hus- 
band drank three cups of tea and read a news- 
paper. 

'' I am going to take some books to the libra- 
ry,’^ she said at last, ‘‘ and then I shall walk a 
little.’^ 

Her voice was as appealing as she dared to 
allow it to be, but he did not look up. 

Janet Rosslyn was the first person she met on 
the Mall. 

“ How nice you look! ” said Janet, in friendly 
recognition of the pretty gown that disguised 
Lilian’s sadness; “are you going anywhere?” 

“ Only to the library; do come with me.” 

A bright face smiled at them from a rickshaw; 
it was Nancy Ivey, sweet as boughs of may, has- 
tening to a tennis-party. 


134 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“ I wonder if that girl has a trouble in the 
world,” said Lilian a little wistfully. 

“ I believe we all have the same amount to 
bear sooner or later,” said Janet placidly; it 
only seems to be unequally divided.” 

“ Your share seems to weigh lightly now, for 
you look radiant.” 

“ I have had some good news: Mr. Norris is 
almost certain that he will be able to go to Eng- 
land next year.” 

“ I am so glad; and shall you be married 
then? ” 

“Yes, some time in the summer, I believe; 
I have not seen Will for three years; it seems too 
good to be true.” 

There was so much enforced concealment in 
Janet’s life for the moment that she found an 
honest pleasure in telling her little tale frankly 
to a friendly woman. It was often a matter of 
reproach to her tender conscience that she could 
permit herself to be happy in what she termed 
“ a life of deceit,” but the very strong power of 
habit held her enthralled. Her devotion to her 
friend dated from the days when they had worn 
pinafores, and Winnie had written French exer- 
cises for her while she did Winnie’s sums. The 
girl of twelve had given blind faith and absolute 
allegiance to the child of nine, whose quick clev- 
erness annulled the difference between their ages, 
and faith and fealty had strengthened during 
more than twenty years of friendship. In some 
ways Winnie was more truly the romance of 


BLACK'S THE LIFE. 


135 


Janet's life than broad-shouldered Will Norris, 
far away on the Darling Downs, and she was cer- 
tainly a more present and powerful influence. 
From the time when Winnie had run laughingly 
along the crumbling edge of the cliffs, or courted 
a ducking at the brink of the rising tide, Janet 
had followed her with faithful heavy feet, and 
the tradition bade fair to be a lifelong one. 

I wonder how Mrs. Edwards will do with- 
out you? " said Lilian. 

“ Dear Winnie! she is already planning won- 
derful clothes for me, though I am sure I shall 
only want very simple things.” 

“ Have you lived with her ever since her hus- 
band's death? ” asked Lilian idly. 

Janet flushed crimson, and stooped to fasten 
her shoe-lace. 

“ No, not quite. Winnie asked me to come 
to India with her; it was a great pleasure for me 
— I had never travelled before. Do you think it 
will rain to-night? ” 

As they were in the midst of the rains, this 
was exceedingly likely, and Lilian was a little 
surprised at the evident desire for a change of 
subject. 

Look at the plains,” she said good-hu- 
mouredly, “ how wonderfully the clouds have 
grouped themselves; it’s like a stormy sea.” 

They looked down across swelling ranges to 
the deep blue plains, where in clear weather the 
silver links of the Sutlej River could be traced; 
now they were heaped with white clouds rolled 


136 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


and tossed like great breakers in a beautiful mim- 
icry of a raging sea. The tonga road, showing 
first as a white ribbon, then as a mere thread 
winding among the hills till it vanished through 
a gap, seemed a very little pathway to lead to the 
great world. 

“ It makes me feel lonely to look over there,” 
said Janet. Think of all the way one’s letters 
have to go and come: one sees the distance so 
clearly.” 

Yes, it’s a far cry to Australia.” 

“ Winnie says I ought to have what she calls 
a ‘posy’ engraved in my ring: 

“ ‘ Heart to heart 
Though far apart.’ 

But you know it has Mizpah on it already, and 
that means the same, only better.” 

“ Does it? I don’t know what Mizpah 
means.” 

“ It’s in the Bible; it means, ‘ The Lord watch 
between me and thee when we are absent one 
from another.’ ” 

The married woman was silent; she was 
thinking that the most suitable posy for her own 
wedding-ring would be, 

“ Though near 
Not dear,” 

and shut her lips on the bitter little thought. 

“Hi! stop!” cried a strong voice, and Mrs. 
Tykes’ rickshaw drew up beside them; “ you are 
just the very people I wanted to see. Will you 


BLACK’S THE LIFE. 


137 

take a ticket in my raffle, Mrs. Myles? Only 
two rupees. This is the first prize.” 

She unwrapped a newspaper parcel, and 
flourished a large doll, clad entirely in pink cro- 
chet from its big yellow head to its small, stiff 
feet. 

“ If you’ll promise that I shan’t win it. I’ll 
take two tickets,” said Lilian. 

“ Now, that’s a disagreeable thing to say; 
you can always give it away.” 

“Very well, then; I’ll give it to you.” 

“ Do, and I’ll raffle it again. The second 
prize is well worth having, too — a baby’s woollen 
jacket and two pairs of lovely little boots.” 

“That would be very useful for me!” 

“Well, you could keep them by you; one 
never ” 

“ Who is the raffle for? ” asked Janet. 

“ A very good, deserving woman, with a 
drunken brute of a husband, a native Christian.” 

“ The husband? ” 

“ No, the wife, poor thing! We want to get 
up a little sum of money to send her away from 
him; he treats her disgracefully. That reminds 
me: if either of you ever have any nice little 
thing you don’t want, you might send it over 
to her. I will give you her address.” 

“ What sort of thing? ” 

“ Any little dainty; she is glad to eat exactly 
what we do, you know, and the poor soul is not 
in the least proud — a box of sardines, a bottle of 
port wine, half a cake, anything of that sort.” 

10 


138 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“ I see,” said Lilian. 

“ Mind you ask Mrs. Edwards how many 
tickets she’ll take, Janet. You are getting much 
too fashionable for me; I shall expect to see you 
riding with A.D.C.’s next. You are looking very 
pale, Mrs. Myles; what’s the matter with you? 
Well, good-night.” 

The rain began soon after sunset, and by nine 
o’clock it was pouring steadily, a strong, persist- 
ent downfall, which sent the monkeys deep 
among the dripping pine-branches for shelter, 
and made them cough dolefully. Lilian’s little 
drawing-room was very bright and pleasant, but 
her husband still sustained the part of skeleton 
on the hearth. 

“ Good-night, Gilbert,” she said at half-past 
ten, more from a habit of politeness than with 
any expectation of being answered. 

But he rose and addressed her: 

“ Listen to me, Lilian: I have made up 
my mind not to go on with this silence any 
longer — it’s wearing to me; but though I 
forgive you, I want you to distinctly under- 
stand ” 

“ It was very wrong of me to speak as I did; 
I know I have a very hasty temper.” 

You have indeed, and you seem unable to 
brook the smallest opposition. However, my 
will is a little stronger than yours, and ” 

“ Oh, Gilbert,” she cried, feeling as though 
the shades of the prison-house were visibly clos- 
ing about her, “ don’t talk of a combat of wills 


BLACK’S THE LIFE. 


139 

as if we were two beasts fighting. I don’t want 
to thwart you; I only ” 

You only want your own way in everything, 
and that I have not the slightest intention of 
giving you. One of us two has to be broken, and 
— I don’t know, of course, but I don’t fancy it 
will be me.” 

She turned away, for the tears were coming 
through her eyes in spite of herself, and he would 
be vexed if he saw them. 

“ I spoke very crossly, I know, and I was 
dreadfully sorry for it five minutes after,” she 
said. 

“ You always are, on your own showing, but 
I fail to see that it does any good.” 

She was silent. Her heart seemed full of 
burning words — appeals, explanations, eager 
prayers for a better state of things, were crowd- 
ing to her lips; but she knew that she was 
powerless to change his point of view, and she 
dreaded to provoke a discussion. She was si- 
lent. 

It’s all very well to confess to a quick tem- 
per,” he went on, ‘‘ but you should try and con- 
trol it.” 

I do try,” she said softly. 

She was afraid of sobbing if she ventured on a 
longer sentence. 

‘‘ You’d better try a little harder, then. Now, 
it’s no good standing there looking cross. I’ll 
forgive you this time, though you are a most pro- 
voking woman.” 


140 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


Fm very sorry,” she said; and the tears as- 
serted themselves. 

“There you go!” said her husband despair- 
ingly; “ one can’t say one word to you without 
your flying into a passion.” 

“ Fm not cross now, Gilbert; Fm sorry.” 

“ It looks very like temper. Now, don’t be 
silly; leave off crying, and give me a kiss.” 

He kissed her quickly, and a little roughly. 
She involuntarily drew away from his arm. It 
seemed a very dreary mockery of a caress while 
their hearts were separated by deserts of mis- 
understandings, and had lost the way to each 
other. 

“ Oh, very well, if you want to sulk, do,” he 
said quickly; “but I thought I had taught you 
it was a dangerous game to play.” 

The prospect of a number of black, silent days 
shook her like physical terror; she threw her 
arms round his neck. 

“ Oh no, dear! please, truly, I never thought 
of sulking. Gilbert, do speak to me; it is so 
lonely. I have nobody here but you.” 

He looked at her and laughed. 

“ There is nothing to be so theatrical about,” 
he said; “we are not on the stage. Go to bed, 
and don’t be a goose.” 


CHAPTER XL 


“with cheeks all red, and golden locks all 

CURLED.” 

“ What are these things thou lovest? Vanity. 

To see men turn their heads when thou dost pass ; 

To be the signboard and the looking-glass, 

Where every idler there may glut his eye ; 

T o hear men speak thy name mysteriously, 

Wagging their heads.” 

Proteus. 

“ Mrs. Bertie Vernon has been talking to me 
about fancy dresses,” said Winnie, looking up 
from her writing-table. 

“Already! why, I thought it was not even 
settled that there was to be a fancy ball,” said 
Janet. 

“ One must risk that if one sends home for 
frocks; and there is nearly certain to be one to- 
wards the end of the season. Mrs. Bertie had 
a terrible scheme that she and I should go as 
‘ Music-hall Sisters,’ in some ridiculous costume 
exactly alike; but I put my foot down for once, 
almost as heavily as she does when she dances, 
and it is not to be.” 

“ Have you chosen a dress yet? ” 

“ Well, I had serious thoughts of going as 
^ East and West ’; I have such unusual facilities 
141 


142 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


for having half my hair dark and the other half 
light; but it might startle people, and certainly 
would not be becoming. Do you know that 
Madeline went to a fancy ball here in a Puritan 
dress of her own making; it was down to the 
floor and up to her ears, and it had three wrinkles 
right across the back.” 

“ I am sure she looked very sweet.” 

“ It would not appear so by the way she had 
to sit out. I think I will keep to the dress I or- 
dered provisionally before we left home; it will 
be startling enough.” 

What is it, Winnie? ” 

“ A dead secret, my dear; I don’t even mean 
you to see it until five minutes before we go to 
the ball. Have you made up your mind what you 
would like? ” 

“ Yes; if Nugent will help me a little, I can 
easily make a Swiss peasant dress.” 

“ Dear thing, you shan’t. Do let me have the 
pleasure of giving you a pretty gown for once; 
we will choose something that you can wear in 
the evening afterwards.” 

“ You give me far too many presents, Win- 
nie.” 

Winnie blew a kiss across the room to her. 

We will think what it is to be before next 
mail-day,” she said. “ I insist on something to 
wear with powder. Mrs. Bertie was not charm- 
ing this morning; she amuses me sometimes, but 
to-day she was so spiteful, so absolutely clawing, 
that I woke up Cripps, and said, ‘S-s-s-s cats!’ 


WITH CHEEKS ALL RED. 


143 


She did i^ot take the hint, though. By-the-by, 
she is coming to dinner next week, so is Colonel 
Strath-Ingram, and I am just writing to Yeatt 
and the other boy and Major Gilmour.” 

“ I wonder why you ask him for the same 
evening? ” 

“ I am doing it on purpose; it’s a kind of dis- 
illusion party got up for his sake.” She spoke 
with her face averted. “ The Acid Drop has been 
trying to fit him with a nickname,” she added, 
after a minute; “ but she can only think of Sir 
Galahad, which isn’t very appropriate, though it 
rather suits his eyes and something in his ex- 
pression: 

“ ‘ My strength is as the strength of ten, 

Because my heart is pure.’ 

I am going for a ride with him to-morrow.” 

“ I am so glad, dear,” said Janet warmly. 

“Are you? Oh, Janet, I wish I wasn’t a 
brother to dragons and a companion to owls!” 

“ What do you mean, Winnie? ” 

“ Mrs. Bertie Vernon, of course, and that old 
man of the mountain, Strath-Ingram. However, 
I’m talking nonsense. Cripps, come here and be 
hypnotized.” 

Cripps rolled upon his back and winnowed the 
air with all four legs at once, as Winnie chanted, 
with much gesticulation: 

“ A lemon has pips, 

And a yard has ships, 

And I’ll have Cripps !” 


144 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


Twice she repeated it, bending lower, with wav- 
ing hands, while the dog wriggled and whined in 
an excitement that was half ecstatic, half appre- 
hensive; then came the climax: 

“ A lemon has pips, 

And a yard has ships, 

And I’ve got Cripps ! ” 

A tweak at his short tail broke the spell, and 
sent him tearing out of the room to bark joy- 
fully as he scoured the garden; and Winnie went 
singing back to her invitations. 

But little more than three weeks had passed 
since Gilmour’s first meeting with the woman 
who was like a jeweller’s shop, but this brief peri- 
od had seen the decay of some of his most cher- 
ished prejudices. He had learnt, for instance, 
that though Mrs. Edwards was almost the em- 
bodiment of what, theoretically, he most detested 
in woman, her fascination was at the beginning 
an uneasy influence, and soon a dear enchant- 
ment. He had called upon her the day after the 
dance, and when he left she promised to ride 
with him on the following afternoon. He felt it 
was his duty to despise her for admitting him 
to intimate companionship so soon; but he knew 
that had she refused he would have been ab- 
surdly saddened. Since then his chances of meet- 
ing her had been many, and he had availed him- 
self of every one of them. There had been rides, 
dances, picnics; he had walked by her rickshaw 
wheels coming home from tennis-parties, when 


WITH CHEEKS ALL RED. 


145 


kindly twilight hid on her face that which dis- 
played in the sunshine made him wince. He 
had met her by elaborate accident when she was 
beginning a busy day by giving Two and Two 
a morning scamper round the racecourse. He 
had watched her laughing and voluble in a noisy 
little circle of men whom he disliked, and noted 
with keen pleasure her friendship with Nancy 
Ivey. He had conned her varying moods with 
patient persistence, misunderstanding most of 
them; and he had begun to hate the thought of 
her dead husband. 

He told himself that she was obviously not a 
person to be taken seriously, even while he at- 
tached weighty meanings to her most trivial 
words. He occasionally thought, too, that she' 
presented the appearance of a woman whom it 
was not necessary to respect; but when he was 
with her he found it impossible either in act or 
word to overpass her invisible unmistakeable bar- 
riers. Winnie’s acquaintances were not long in 
learning that her light-hearted freedom of speech 
was companioned by an unexpected quality of 
pure reserve. No one of those who sought and 
followed after her and smiled meaningly when 
her name was mentioned had ever possessed her 
laughing lips for an instant. She played a foolish 
game so daintily and adroitly that it never be- 
came a dangerous one. She knew her rules, and 
none of her playfellows tried to break them twice. 
Her light feet made pretence of crumbling 
ground while they knew the solid rock was be- 


146 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


neath them. Gilmour had thought, not unnat- 
urally, that no good friendship could have Strath- 
Ingram for one of its supporters, but even that 
lion among ladies was conscious of an unacknowl- 
edged Una. 

Her little note to Gilmour set his hopes leap- 
ing high. Surely to dine quietly would mean only 
Miss Rosslyn and another man besides himself. 
She would be in one of her rare moods of serious 
sweetness, and she would sing with that low, 
thrilling voice of hers; perhaps she would let 
him choose her songs. If she asked him to sing, 
his choice would be ‘‘ To Anthea, who may com- 
mand him anything.” 

As he rode down from the club on the even- 
ing of her dinner, he softly whistled the air of 
‘‘Anthea,” with his thoughts upon the words: 

“ Thou art my life, my love, my heart, 

The very eyes of me.” 


Then he stopped; this was exaggeration. He 
had hardly known her a month. She was un- 
suited to him in a myriad ways, and yet never 
before had a woman filled his thoughts and domi- 
nated his mind as she did. The smooth-haired 
maiden, who dwelt among the untrodden ways, 
seemed very unattractive and very far distant. 

The chuckling laugh of Strath-Ingram 
reached him as he dismounted in the veranda. 
When he went in, Yeatt was saying: “ Then 
you’re cornin’ out ridin’ with me to-morrow; 


WITH CHEEKS ALL RED. 


147 


that’s settled.” As he shook hands with Win- 
nie, Mrs. Bertie Vernon swept in, scattering 
odours, breathing perfume, and Luttrell followed 
after. 

The disappointment was very bitter, though 
it was a little comfort to find himself sitting by 
Mrs. Edwards at dinner. I must have you two 
bad children opposite, where I can keep a guard- 
ian eye on you,” she said. But not even being 
classed with Mrs. Bertie as a bad child made 
Strath-Ingram look contented. 

Winnie, in a white satin gown blazing with 
diamonds, was more audaciously decoratec? than 
usual. Her beautiful eyes shone under theatric- 
ally-darkened lids, and as she smiled with red- 
dened lips, Gilmour wondered why it was that she 
escaped looking disgusting. 

“ How appalling this weather is! ” she said. 

It’s enough to take a doormat out of curl, and 
my very mind feels mildewed. I was all alone 
most of the afternoon, and my spirits were sui- 
cidal.” 

Oh, why didn’t you send me a chit? I’d 
have come over like a shot,” said Strath-Ingram. 

“ How nice of you! But I had meant to go 
out, and instead of that the rain came, and Mrs. 
Tykes arrived on the wings of a waterproof. I 
thought she was an experiment in military bal- 
looning, one of our failures, when I saw her flap- 
ping down the hill. She brought me some scones 
that had got rather wet on the way, and we had 
them imperfectly dried for tea.” 


148 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


‘‘ I didn’t think you and Mrs. Tykes were so 
chummy.” 

^ “ Yes, we are great allies; she wants to make 

me a clever housekeeper. Won’t it be a triumph 
if she does? But to-day she only came to seek 
sympathy. Half the poultry-yard has got croup, 
or roup, or houp — I forget which — and she had 
been spending a happy day giving them vitriol 
and carbolic oil and other dainties. ‘ And then I 
felt so dull, Mrs. Edwards, I just changed my 
dress, and came over to see you.’ I am so glad 
that she thought of changing her dress! ” 

“ ‘ If I were as tedious as a king, I could find 
it in my heart to bestow it all upon your wor- 
ship,’ ” said Gilmour in an undertone. 

“Ah, thank you; it is so nice not to be the 
only person who quotes. I love sharing my 
vices.” 

“Sharin’ your vices?” said Yeatt, who sat 
next her. “ I’m on in that piece.” 

“Oh, you naughty girl!” cried Mrs. Bertie 
Vernon. 

The dinner-table was adorned with a pretty 
confusion of ferns and wild-flowers in little silver 
bowls and lotahs. The silver animals they make 
at Muttra peered out from the mimic jungle — 
fantastic tigers, mice, horses and elephants, all 
the same size. 

“ May I compliment the fair fingers that ar- 
ranged these flowers so charmingly? ” said 
Strath-Ingram in sprightly tones. 

“Yes, do,” said Winnie. “They belong to 


WITH CHEEKS ALL RED. 


149 


my maid, and she will be delighted. Nugent en- 
joys trimming a table, as she calls it, and con- 
siders it in profile as though it were a bonnet. 
I have to forbid her silk or ribbons, else I feel 
certain she would tie everything together with 
terrible loops and bows, and add a few feathers 
and paste buckles probably.” 

“ I think they would look awfully smart,” 
said Mrs. Bertie. 

Mrs. Bertie Vernon was in high spirits, and 
the noisy converse she was holding with Strath- 
Ingram did not prevent her from playing what 
she called post-office ” with Luttrell. This 
game consisted of dropping almonds and bonbons 
down the back of his neck, and when he sat with 
defensive, humped shoulders and raised chin, she 
put fragments of bread and unconsidered trifles 
into his peg tumbler and salted his champagne. 
He presently moved his glasses to the other side, 
and grew a little cross, till she assured him he was 
a didums was,” and loudly requested him to 
hold her hand under the table. This he presum- 
ably did, until she needed it again to show him 
a new system of flicking bread pellets. She chose 
Gilmour’s nose for a target, but her aim was not 
good, and he was elaborately unconscious of her 
efforts. 

“ When a silly woman tries to be funny, the 
angels weep,” said Winnie softly. “ What floods 
of angelic tears she and I are responsible for! ” 

“ Please don’t couple yourself with her, even 
in jest,” said Gilmour earnestly. 


150 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“ It’s a very amiable goose, but she is too silly 
to-night. Oh, goodness, look at her! She’s 
opening her mouth for Captain Yeatt to throw 
sweets into across the table. My dear Mrs. 
Bertie, do take care! Suppose you were ‘ struck 
so,’ as my nurse used to say, and never able to 
shut it again! Are you playing hippopotamus at 
the Zoo?” 

Mrs. Bertie, who had beautiful teeth, brought 
them together with an indignant click, and sulked 
for five minutes. At the end of that time she 
slipped a piece of ice down Luttrell’s collar, and 
became herself again. 

“ Mrs. Edwards is trying to catch your eye to 
take you away, because you’ve been behaving so 
badly,” said her writhing victim. 

“ I don’t see any sense in going away,” she 
said loudly; “ and as for cigarettes. I’m sure you 
may smoke them if you like. I don’t mind help- 
ing.” 

But Winnie rose definitely, and Mrs. Bertie 
was forced to follow, making a face at Yeatt on 
the way. 

“ Look here, dear,” she said, clutching Win- 
nie’s arm as they crossed the narrow hall: “ tell 
one of the servants to bring some flour, and we’ll 
make an apple-pie hat. Oh, it is such fun! When 
the man puts it on, the flour falls all over him, 
and ruins his coat. Won’t I put lots into Gil- 
mour’s hat! Isn’t he an awful stupid? Which 
is his, I wonder? ” 

“ No, don’t let’s,” said Winnie. “ Something 


WITH CHEEKS ALL RED. 


151 

must have been left out of me, for I hate practical 
jokes; they set my teeth on edge.” 

“ Well, you are silly. Never mind; I’ll think 
of something else to make us laugh; there’s lots 
of go in me.” 

“ Have you seen Winnie’s new photo- 
graphs? ” asked Janet shyly. 

“No; where are they? Oh, that’s lovely; it’s 
quite beautiful, but I don’t think it’s very like 
you, my dear girl. Now, that’s a better one; it 
is not nearly so flattering, but I can quite tell who 
it is meant for. The other one makes you look as 
if your eyes were enormous. I must go to that 
new man.” 

“ He is rather expensive,” said Winnie, “ but 
all Indian photographers are.” 

“ I dare say he’ll take me for nothing,” said 
Mrs. Bertie Vernon, yawning, with great frank- 
ness; “ but if he won’t, I shall just have the small- 
est number of copies I can.” 

“ But heaps of people are sure to ask you for 
them.” 

“ Rather! But you don’t fancy I buy those, 
do you? Why, I should be stony-broke at the 
end of the season. When anyone asks me for a 
photo, I just tell him that I’ll give him leave to 
go and get it from the shop.” 

“ I see,” said Winnie. 

“ Where do you get your lampshades? ” de- 
manded Mrs. Bertie, crushing with firm fingers 
the filmy hanging flounce of one that stood near 
her. 


152 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


Those chiffon ones, which require very deli- 
cate handling, came , out from home, and Miss 
Rosslyn made the cripe paper ones.” 

“ Did she really? Why, they look just as 
good as if they had been made in a shop. Oh, 
you must do some for me! I suppose they don’t 
cost much. There are the men coming already; 
they have been quick.” 

“ Are we in time to save our reputations? 
I know how ladies talk when they get to- 
gether,” said Strath-Ingram in his most florid 
manner. 

“ Do you? Who taught you? ” 

“ Ah, that’s a secret. Wouldn’t you like to 
know, Mrs. Edwards? ” 

‘‘ Yes, dreadfully; come and tell me,” said 
Winnie, keenly conscious of the cold, tired look 
on Gilmour’s face. 

No, you shan’t have it — I don’t mean to let 
you have it,” cried Mrs. Bertie shrilly. 

She had stolen Yeatt’s pocket-handkerchief, 
and was waving it triumphantly above her 
head. 

''Oh, all right; keep it for my sake,” he 
drawled, dropping into a chair. " I’m not goin’ 
to chase you round the room so soon after din- 
ner; ’tisn’t half good enough. You and I’ll have 
a cosy little talk. Miss Rosslyn; let’s hear all the 
news.” 

Luttrell snatched the handkerchief, and Mrs. 
Bertie Vernon pursued him round tables and over 
chairs with loud laughter and sharp little screams. 


WITH CHEEKS ALL RED. 


153 


He was very lithe and quick, but he allowed him- 
self to be caught in the pink muslin room, and 
she returned scarlet and victorious. 

“ You haven’t seen Cripps do his new trick,” 
said Winnie to the public generally. “ He goes 
upstairs and fetches down both my slippers at 
once so cleverly. We often hear him drop them 
on the stairs, but he picks them up again some- 
how.” 

Cripps was found sheltering under a sofa; he 
had a sulky face, and was evidently longing for 
the guests to go. He had been an ill-used dog 
that day, he considered, for having seen an inso- 
lent red-faced monkey in the Lakkar Bazaar, he 
had felt it his duty to chase it over hill, over dale, 
through bush, through brier, over park, over 
pale; and when at last he lost it, and returned 
panting to his mistress, she had scolded him se- 
verely and struck him twice with her umbrella. 
It could not be explained to him that he had 
been chastised out of pure love and tenderness, 
since monkeys have been known to literally turn 
and rend pursuing dogs, and still the memory 
rankled. He listened wearily to Winnie’s instruc- 
tions, and loafed out of the room. There was 
a long pause. 

“ ’Tisn’t cornin’ off, seemin’ly,” said Yeatt. 

“ Wait a minute. • I hear him now.” 

There was a shuffling, bundling noise on the 
stairs, and Cripps tumbled through the portiere, 
dragging laboriously after him a pair of large 
gray felt slippers, the private property of Nu- 

II 


154 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


gent. He stumbled with them to Winnie’s feet, 
and looked up hypocritically. 

“ Cripps, you slanderer! ” she cried; and as 
she pretended to kick him, her little shoe flew 
off into the middle of the room, where it was 
pounced upon by Strath-Ingram. 

He held it up, declaiming: “ ‘ Who stole her 
slipper, filled it with tokay ’ ” 

“ ‘ And found it held a hogshead every day,’ ” 
broke in Winnie. “ Cripps, you’d better take 
these boots back to your friend Nugent; she’ll 
scold you. Please give me my shoe.” 

“ Let’s play Hunt the Slipper,” cried Mrs. 
Bertie, as Strath-Ingram knelt to fit the shoe on 
Winnie’s outstretched foot. 

“ I’m too old to sit on the floor; think of 
another,” said Winnie. 

“ Musical Chairs, then.” 

“ We are not nearly enough, and it breaks 
things.” 

“ Hissing and Clapping? ” 

“Kissin’ and Slappin’?” said Yeatt. ‘‘Oh, 
come now, Mrs. Bertie, Mrs. Bertie! ” 

“ Oh, do shut up, and don’t be such an idiot! ” 
said the lady, with a wriggle and a giggle. “ I 
know an awfully good card game; you deal round 
one pack, and the other’s on the table, and you 
turn up cards, and all say things. If the card is 
in your hand, it applies to you, you know, and 
you can say whatever you like.” 

“ Rippin’! let’s try it; you do explain awfully 
well.” 


WITH CHEEKS ALL RED. 


155 

Luttrell expounded the rules of “ Personali- 
ties ” more clearly, and they began to play. 

“The holder of the card like this,’’ said Strath- 
Ingram, with a leering glance at Winnie, “ is the 
Belle of Simla.” 

“Now, isn’t that a coincidence!” simpered 
Mrs. Bertie, displaying it.' 

“ The man who’s got the card like this is a 
regular old rip,” said Yeatt. 

Gilmour laid the fellow to it upon the table. 

“ He’s a dark horse, Mrs. Edwards; don’t you 
trust him; truth will out.” 

“ This card is up to his ears in debt,” said 
Luttrell. “ Hullo! I’ve got it myself; that’s too 
bad.” 

“ The person who has got this card is devoted 
to me,” said Mrs. Bertie Vernon. “ Oh, how 
nice!” she added archly, as Strath-Ingram 
showed it. 

“ I’m so fond of the owner of this card,” said 
Winnie; and three were on the table at once, 
but Yeatt was the fortunate man. 

“ Oh, I say. I’m blushin’,” he remarked coyly; 
“ you ought to tell one that sort o’ thing in pri- 
vate.” 

“ It’s hardly worth while having another 
round,” said Winnie, pitying the anxious eyes of 
Janet, whose turn came next. “ Won’t you sing 
us something, Mrs. Bertie? ” 

“ Couldn’t possibly; I’m as hoarse as a crow; 
I don’t mind dancing, though, if you will.” 

“Just the thing,” said Winnie, raising the 


156 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


wide folds of her gown with either hand; “ we’ll 
do that pas de deux we practised the other day.” 

“ I wish I had a short skirt on,” said Mrs. 
Bertie, fastening her train to her shoulder with 
a vast star which bore the courtesy title of dia- 
mond.” 

‘‘ So do we all,” said Strath-Ingram gallantly. 

“ Never mind; we can kilt our coats,” said 
Winnie. “ Play quite slowly at first please, 
Janet.” 

Mrs. Bertie giggled, and made eyes as she 
blundered through a few simple steps, while 
Winnie seemed to have no thought but for the 
music, to whose measure she bent and swayed 
and footed featly. In reality she was keenly 
alive to the look that each man wore — Strath- 
Ingram’s gloating smile, Luttrell’s handsome 
foolish face, the half-smiling, half-sneering lips 
that Yeatt’s small moustache did not shadow, 
and the expression of polite interest that Gil- 
mour had assumed like a mask. Did the mask 
hide indifference, or dislike, or disgust? She 
must remember that it was her purpose to dis- 
gust him. 

The music quickened; the paste buckles on 
Winnie’s shoes sparkled and flashed. She was 
dancing with butterfly grace, and her breathing 
had hardly altered, though Mrs. Bertie was pant- 
ing audibly. 

“ Oh dear! I must stop; I can’t do any 
more.” 

And Mrs. Bertie flung herself into a chair. 


WITH CHEEKS ALL RED. 


157 

“ Go on, Janet,” said Winnie, “ and much 
faster.” 

She had the floor to herself, and her gesture 
and poses became freer and more elaborate. Her 
white arms now swayed the folds of gleaming 
satin, now were tossed above her head, now bent 
with the supple swing of her slender figure, until 
they were almost on a level with the little white 
shoes that “ fluttered like doves,” as Strath-In- 
gram afterwards phrased it, with a touch of un- 
expected poesy. It is perhaps to be regretted 
that this flight was followed by an enthusiastic 
eulogy on the ankles of the doves, but to observe 
them was unavoidable. At the last bar she sank 
in an exaggerated curtsey — down, down, till she 
was like a great white flower on the floor. Ris- 
ing slowly, she kissed both hands to her audi- 
ence. 

“ Bravo! ” “ Oh, you never showed me those 
steps.” ” Rippin’, Mrs. Edwards, rippin’l ” “ En- 
core, encore,” came in a quick chorus. 

You are very kind,” said Winnie, lying back 
at languid length in the largest chair; “ but I am 
quite exhausted, and somebody must sing to me. 
Who will?” 

She tried not to look at Gilmour as she spoke; 
she was longing thirstily for the sound of his 
voice, but he was silent. The ever-ready Yeatt 
took possession of the piano, and they shouted 
comic songs till after midnight. 

Gilmour had intended to bid Winnie the most 
indifferent of good-nights, but when the moment 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 



came, some constraining power changed the 
words on his lips to: 

“ When shall I see you again? ” 

It depends upon when you look for me. I 
am generally in evidence,” said Winnie flippantly. 

“ Yes, I know; but I mean, see you to talk to. 
Can you spare an afternoon for a ride with me 
this week? ” 

They were virtually alone, for the three men 
were noisily helping Mrs. Bertie into her rick- 
shaw outside, and Janet was tidying the scattered 
music. She looked at him with a strange gravity 
on her painted face. 

“ Do you really want me to? ” she asked. 
Yes; you don’t know how much I want it,” 
he said. 

“ Hurry up, Gilmour!” shouted Yeatt. ‘‘This 
brute of a pony of yours is kickin’ the veranda 
down.” 

“ Was the ‘ disillusion party ’ a success, Win- 
nie? ” asked Janet, when they were alone. 

No, dear,” said Winnie, speaking with 
averted face; “it was a failure — a triumphant 
failure! ” 


CHAPTER XII. 


‘‘ THEN THE GOOD MINUTE GOES.” 

“ The flame will catch thy floating veil 
If thou dancest round the fire.” 

Lute-player^ s Song. 

Winnie, in her riding-habit, was drinking a 
cup of tea exceedingly slowly, while Strath-In- 
gram stood fidgeting near the window. Two and 
Two was waiting without, and so was a glossy 
black pony, known to his master as Satan, and 
to Winnie as Satin. 

“ Do you really think it is safe to start? ” she 
said. “ Pm sure it means to rain in torrents, and 
I do dread a cold. What do you say about it, 
Janet? ” 

Janet raised her truthful eyes from her em- 
broidery. She had an idea that Winnie wished 
to avoid this impending ride, but she did not 
know how to help her. 

“ I don’t know at all, dear. I think you had 
better take a waterproof.” 

“ I’d much rather be drowned. Walking in a 
waterproof is bad enough, but riding in one is 
pure misery.” 

Cripps gazed up at his mistress with tender, 
appealing eyes, fearing that she intended to leave 
159 


i6o 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


him at home. Strath-Ingram looked at her at 
the same moment, and Winnie was struck by the 
similarity of expression between man and dog; 
it gave her a little shiver. 

“ No, Cripps,” she said; “a dog that chases 
monkeys never goes to heaven, and never goes 
out for rides. Own Aunt Janet will take you 
with her presently. Don’t let him get into your 
rickshaw, dear. He is growing so fat he will soon 
be a sausage — a white sausage with a black patch 
over one eye.” 

“ I believe we shall have a lovely evening, 
after all,” said Strath-Ingram, as he put her into 
her saddle. 

“ I doubt it; and if I get a ducking, followed 
by influenza, Mrs. Tykes is coming to nurse me. 
She made that threat — promise, I should say — 
yesterday, so can you wonder that I am anxious 
to keep well? ” 

“ I should think that you were never ill,” he 
said, looking at her admiringly. 

“ But I am, constantly, and I make a horrid 
invalid,” said Winnie, giving rein to her imagina- 
tion. “ I get so cross and exacting that it is per- 
fect pain to me to see anyone sitting down near 
me. I spend my time in devising things for them 
to do. When I had pneumonia, I nearly killed 
my poor husband. I don’t think he had more 
than an hour of consecutive sleep for a week.” 

“ But I thought you were always so well and 
jolly.” 

'‘I am a most deceptive creature; I simply 


THE GOOD MINUTE GOES. l6i 

live on excitement; when there is nothing to do, 
my vitality burns low. I am intensely neurotic.” 

He was a little startled. 

“ Well, I should never have thought it, Mrs. 
Edwards! ” 

“ No, nobody does.” She looked across the 
hills for inspiration, and went on brightly: “ I 
often wonder if my spine is at fault; there must 
be something to account for the nervous crises 
from which I suffer. There are times when a 
darkened room and absolute stillness are all that 
I can endure. Did you ever feel like that? ” 

“ No, I can't say I ever did.” 

“ Ah, how fortunate you are! But surely you 
have suffered from sleeplessness? ” 

“ No, I generally sleep like a top.” 

“ Really? It must be delightful not to know 
the misery of lying awake counting the hours, 
and wondering whether one had better take sul- 
phonal or chloral.” 

“Good heavens! you don’t take chloral?” 

Winnie smiled sadly. 

“ ‘ Quel chagrin, quel ennui, 

De compter toute la nuit 
Les heures, les heures,’ ” 

she murmured softly; “ but that’s enough about 
me, let’s talk of something more amusing. Heav- 
ens! the age of miracles is not yet past; there’s 
a man walking with Mrs. Alehin! ” 

They were moving at a foot-pace through the 
most crowded part of the Mall, the Ridge on 
their right, a row of little open shops on their 


i 62 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


left. Half Simla seemed to be walking, riding, 
or trundling there (sitting in a rickshaw cannot 
be called driving). Winnie bowed every moment, 
and Strath-Ingram’s hand never left his hat. 

“ How we all come out between the show- 
ers!” said Winnie; “it’s like worms after rain.” 

“ Hullo, where are you off to? ” cried Mrs. 
Bertie Vernon, suddenly appearing round a 
corner. 

Her figure was more like an hour-glass in her 
habit than in any other garment, and she was 
mounted on a tall dapple-gray creature, which 
had exactly the colour and very much the paces 
of a rocking-horse. Her companion, little Mr. 
Sidman, who belonged to the short, fair order of 
subalterns, looked unfeelingly young and fresh. 

“ Come with us,” she said, making what she 
called a moiie, and other people a “ face,” at 
Strath-Ingram; “four’s a much better scamper- 
ing number than two, and we’ll all go helter- 
skelter on the Ladies’ Mile.” 

“ Oh, we’re tired of Jakko; we’re going the 
other way!” he said, loudly enough to be heard by 
another pair of riders — Nancy Ivey and Gilmour. 

Winnie noticed for the first time what a good- 
looking couple they made, and winced under a 
prick of jealous pain. Nancy’s flower-face was 
very fair and sweet, and Gilmour was smiling as 
he talked to her, with an extra smile, indeed, as- 
sumed when he recognised Two and Two. They 
had only met by chance five minutes before, but 
Winnie had not the comfort of knowing that. 


THE GOOD MINUTE GOES. 163 

“ I do wonder why Mrs. Edwards likes Colo- 
nel Strath-Ingram; he seems horrid, somehow, 
I think,” said Nancy, after they had passed. 

“ I am glad he is not a friend of yours,” said 
Gilmour fervently. 

“ That’s a case, I should fancy,” said Strath- 
Ingram to Winnie. 

“ You mean Miss Ivey and Major Gilmour? ” 

“Yes; he’s supposed to be clever, but he’s 
rather a stick; that pretty girl might do better 
for herself.” 

She was silent, which was a bad sign, but he 
had not the wit to see it. 

“ How I hate this long, sloping road down to 
the Public Works Office! ” she said presently; 
“ let’s trot.” 

“ Don’t, for God’s sake! you know Two and 
Two isn’t very sure-footed, and if he tripped and 
came down, you might be killed.” 

“You are complimentary to my riding!” 

“ It’s an awful thing to see a woman come to 
smash,” he said solemnly; “ if the horse rolls over 
on her, there is no chance for her. Just think 
how ghastly it would be if you were disfigured! ” 

“ Oh, much worse than death! ” 

There was a long pause. She noticed that he 
was wearing new boots, and had a particularly 
well-made buttonhole. 

“ ‘ These are portents, but yet I hope 
They do not point on me.’ ” 

she murmured. 

“ I beg your pardon? ” 


164 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“ Nothing; I wasn’t really speaking; I’ve got 
into a bad habit of thinking half aloud. Did I tell 
you that they’ve settled on ‘ Les Cloches ’ after 
all, and I’m to be Serpolette? The list of re- 
hearsals came to-day, and it’s much longer than 
my arm, so I suppose I shall not have a minute 
to call my own till the business is over.” 

“ I wish to goodness you’d chuck it up alto- 
gether! ” 

“ Oh, you traitor! Well, this is the unkindest 
cut of all! Why, you have encouraged me to act 
from the first, and said all sorts of pretty things 
about my singing and my dancing, and now here 
is a change! ” 

“ One’s feelings do change. I can’t help hat- 
ing the thought of all those people staring at you 
now, and ” 

“ But I love being stared at. Ah, the road is 
level again at last; come along.” 

Two and Two cantered gaily off, and sus- 
tained speech was impossible for the next few 
minutes; when they slackened speed, Winnie was 
voluble. 

Do you remember when Viceregal Lodge 
was at Peterhof? ” she asked eagerly. “ It must 
have been amusing, so small and so squashy. Mrs. 
Alehin told me that the Viceroy in those days 
had to dine in his ballroom, or, rather, to dance 
in his dining-room, for there was no proper place 
for dancing. So when there was a dinner before 
a dance, they hurried the courses, and everything 
had to be cleared away directly. Fancy a ballroom 


THE GOOD MINUTE GOES. 1 65 

decorated with a smell of dinner! Oh, look! 
aren’t those ferns pretty? ” 

Which ferns? ” he asked gloomily. 

Those little feathery ones on the tree- 
trunks.” 

Since the rains had begun, even the branches 
of the trees were decked in living green; soft vel- 
vet moss, plumed with little ferns, clasped them 
round. 

I am sure there are lots of wild-flowers 
here,” she went on. “ My Jampdnies are getting 
lazy; they pretend they can’t find any. Oh, did 
I tell you about the faithful Nugent and the bou- 
quet of violets? I wore a pale pansy-coloured 
dress at the Black Hearts ball. Do you remem- 
ber? No, you don’t. Well, you will take my 
word for it. Nugent decided — and the Medes 
and the Persians pale before Nugent when she is 
decided — that nothing but violets would go with 
this dress.” 

If you had only told me. I’d ” 

“ How awfully good of you! But she tried at 
Annandale days before, and they hadn’t any, so 
she sent out the eight jampdnies first thing in the 
morning to pick all the dog violets they could 
find. Eighty fingers, counting their thumbs as 
fingers, though in reality their fingers are all 
thumbs, all picking violets! They toiled for 
hours, poor things! and Nugent was quite piti- 
less; she was like that terrible ‘ Hungry — still 
hungry — I want some more ’ in the fairy-tale. 
She kept on tying up the flowers they brought 


i66 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


into little bunches, and sending them further and 
further afield for more. Finally, at four o’clock 
they were fainting in heaps, and she made a most 
lovely bouquet, only, as she said, ‘ Unluckily, the 
perfume must be left to the imagination, ’m!’” 

They had reached the place where the road 
round Summer Hill (a mere bridle-path) branches 
off from Observatory Hill. 

“ Do come this way,” he said. 

‘‘Shall we have time? It’s nearly sunset.” 

“ Heaps of time. You might grant me this.” 

Something in his voice made her obey at once. 

“We are in for it now,” she thought, biting 
her lip — “ the revenge of my wildest dreams; and 
it’s horribly serious, and not in the least amus- 
ing, and I would give the world for it to be 
over.” 

He cleared his throat loudly and nervously. 
She glanced at him, hoping that something ri- 
diculous might partly justify her conduct. But 
three seeming impossibilities for Strath-Ingram 
had met in his face; he looked pale, serious and 
good. 

“ My leave is up next week; I have to go 
down on Friday.” 

“ I hope you won’t find it very hot,” said 
Winnie, wishing that she possessed a spur or 
some unseen means of goading Two and Two 
into a convenient frenzy. 

“ I never mind heat. I hope to get ten days’ 
leave about the end of October, but that depends 
on you.” 


THE GOOD MINUTE GOES. 


67 


On me? ” 

And she tried to make her voice sound sur- 
prised. 

“ Yes, and on the answer you are going to 
give me.” 

“ Of course I shall be delighted to see you if 
you come up again in October,” she said. 

But he looked at her so gravely that her pre- 
tence at laughter failed. 

“ I want more than that. I dare say I have 
seemed as though I was only laughing and playing 
the fool, but surely, Winnie, you knew that there 
was more in it than that.” 

“ How was I to know? ” she said. 

“ It must have been my fault if you didn’t,” 
he said. “ At first I wasn’t even sure of it my- 
self; it didn’t seem like me; but I know now that 
I love you with all my heart.” 

She was silent. Her right hand was stroking 
Two and Two’s neck with monotonous regular- 
ity, and she did not raise her eyes from the glossy 
chestnut skin. 

“ I didn’t take you a bit seriously to begin 
with,” he went on. “ I thought you were very 
pretty and very good fun — the sort of woman 
that amuses one, you know.” 

She nodded. 

“ And then I found it was a hundred times 
more than that. I was always thinking of you; 
everything I looked at meant you, somehow. 
You must have known, Winnie.” 

‘‘ I thought I amused you.” 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


1 68 


It is difficult for a man to stamp his foot in 
the stirrup while riding, but Strath-Ingram at- 
tempted the action. 

“ I am a damned fool to have said that. I 
beg your pardon, darling. I didn’t mean to 
swear; I hardly knew what I was saying. This 
means too much to me.” 

Winnie took the slight shelter proffered by a 
platitude: 

You have only known me three months.” 

‘‘ It feels like the best part of my life,” he 
said, as simply and earnestly as a boy could have 
spoken. 

The eager, waiting look in his eyes troubled 
her. She turned her head away, almost expecting 
next moment to hear his chuckling laugh, and 
the declaration that the whole thing was a joke; 
but he was sadly serious, and absolutely in ear- 
nest. 

I can’t pretend I’m a young man,” he said; 
“ but I’m stronger than many young fellows, and 
there’s nothing the matter with me. I wouldn’t 
ask you to marry me if it meant your having to 
look after me.” 

Winnie murmured something to fill the pause 
— she hardly knew what — and he went on: 

“ I couldn’t be called rich, but I have a cer- 
tain amount of money of my own. Every penny 
of yours should be settled on you and the little 
girl, and I’d do all I could for her, too.” 

“ It’s impossible — impossible.” 

Oh, for God’s sake don’t say that! Are you 


THE GOOD MINUTE GOES. 


169 

thinking of the child? Why, she's so young 
she'd soon get fond of me, and you don't know 
how good I'd be to her. I've thought of her 
often lately. You needn't be afraid that I 
shouldn't love your child, Winnie." 

There was a tone in his voice that she had 
never heard before, and her heart was full of 
shame and sorrow, and her eyes were full of 
tears. 

“ I am not in the least what I seem," she said 
slowly. 

He took her hand in spite of the menace of 
Two and Two's laid-back ears. 

“ My dearest girl," he said, and a faint echo 
of his usual chuckle accompanied the words. 
I'm not blind; of course I see that you make 
up a bit, but you don't often overdo it, and the 
result is very charming." 

Two and Two gave a vigorous kick; Satin 
saved himself dexterously, and Winnie's hand 
was her own again. The instant had been enough 
to show her that she neither needed nor wished 
to explain matters further; her secret should re- 
main her secret. 

“ Don't give me my answer yet," he pleaded; 
“ do take time to think it over. I have startled 
you; tell me to-morrow." 

''No; this is my real answer: I do not mean 
to marry." 

He looked bewildered. 

" But I never thought you cared as much as 
that for your husband," he said. 

12 


170 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


'' I am not influenced by the past; but I in- 
tend never to marry.” 

The narrow road had circled the hillside now, 
and the pageant of sunset blazed before them. 
Winnie noticed three little flecks of scarlet cloud 
floating in the golden sky; the evening star swam 
in a delicate blue that melted to softest green. 
The whole air thrilled with the shrill notes of the 
cicalas, and she heard some monkeys quarrelling 
in a tree as they chose sleeping-places for the 
night. She watched a large lizard glide behind 
a clump of potentilla, whose vapid red berries 
mimicked those of the wild-strawberry; she even 
took note of a stone on the path; and through 
all this consideration of trifles Strath-Ingram’s 
pale, serious face troubled her, and she felt very 
sad and a little angry, as at an unexpected re- 
sponsibility. 

An old man passed them carrying a heavy 
load of wood on his bent back. His face was 
seamed and lined, and his clothing a few filthy 
rags, but he had stuck a bright pink rose in the 
tangle of grizzled hair above his left ear. She 
wondered if it answered to a buttonhole, and 
whether he too was going a-wooing. 

Strath-Ingram was saying again what he had 
said before, only more fervently, more insistent- 
ly. The chattering, self-satisfied person, with 
whom and at whom she had so often jested, had 
vanished utterly, and in his place stood an un- 
happy, passionate creature, for whom she was 
responsible. Her vanity or her small-mindedness 


THE GOOD MINUTE GOES. 


171 

was the Frankenstein that had created this mon- 
ster; but she had thought him so safe, cased in 
armour of proof, safe in his own conceit. She 
was helplessly sorry, and said so when his eager 
expostulations allowed her time for speech. 

Presently she grew weary of answering, and 
her eyes could no longer force back their tears; 
they overflowed upon her cheeks. He saw them, 
and all that was chivalrous and best in him, the 
good impulses of early days, and a far-away tra- 
dition of nobility, conquered and silenced the self- 
ishness, the sensuality and vulgarity, of later 
years. 

‘‘Forgive me,” he said; “I won’t say any- 
thing more. Well, I am glad that I have had the 
chance of meeting you and loving you, though it 
hurts now.” 

Then Winnie did what she blushed to remem- 
ber, though at that moment of strained feeling 
it seemed natural and simple. Leaning over, she 
kissed Strath-Ingram’s wrinkled cheek; and grace 
was given him, for the moment, to understand 
and accept her kiss quietly and purely. 

“ God bless you! ” he said. 

There was a long silence. They rode quickly 
through the sunset glow, and the glory faded and 
paled, and the stars carne out over the whole ex- 
panse of sky. 

At last he spoke, in the unlovely tones of self- 
pity. 

“ I believe you are right,” he said. “ I know 
my faults, and though I am a fairly clever man. 


72 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


and have a very good constitution naturally, I 
have my weaknesses. Did you ever hear that I 
was a little too given to lifting my little finger, 
eh?’’ 

She winced. 

“ Oh no, no,” she said softly. 

It’s a mere habit; one does it out of good 
fellowship. You could have stopped that if you 
had cared; but I forgot — I promised not to say 
any more.” 

This time the silence lasted until they had 
dismounted and stood together in the veranda 
of Winnie’s little house. The sjyces led the ponies 
away. 

“ Don’t think hardly of me,” said Winnie, 
with the word too much that a woman so often 
speaks; her voice was softer than she knew, and 
he responded at once. 

“ I believe there’s a little hope for me still,” 
he cried jauntily; “ give me another kiss, Win- 
nie.” 

But she was gone almost before he ceased 
to speak. 

Some three hours later Strath-Ingram, hav- 
ing dined lightly and drunk heavily, was telling 
a chance acquaintance that he had been hit — hard 
hit. She was the best little woman, the sweetest, 
dearest little woman; and, mind you, he didn’t 
say that she had led him on, but, still, a man 

might suppose Well, other people had 

thought so too, he wasn’t the only one that saw 
it, and yet when it came to the scratch, when he 


THE GOOD MINUTE GOES. 


173 


had offered himself as humbly as though he had 

been a subaltern — a damned subaltern! Oh 

no, she never meant to marry! She’d been amus- 
ing herself, playing him like a fish. But she was 
the best of women. Such a bonny woman! Such 
a bright little woman! No one had better try 
to say a word against her in his hearing; he 
should like to see the man who had a word to 
say against her; and so on, and so on, at great 
length, but always, be it said, without mentioning 
her name. 

Presently the chance acquaintance slipped 
away, leaving Strath-Ingram shaking his head 
sadly and solemnly and still murmuring confi- 
dences to his unlighted cheroot. The glory had 
departed. 


CHAPTER XIIL 


BID THAT HEART STAY, AND IT SHALL STAY.’^ 

“ Foolish love is only folly, 

Wanton love is too unholy, 

Greedy love is covetous. 

Idle love is frivolous ; 

But the gracious love is it 
That doth prove the work of wit.” 

Nicholas Breton. 

The next day was hopelessly wet. The rain 
began during the night, and the gray dawn dis- 
closed a drenched, dripping world. Masses of cloud 
filled the valleys and blotted out the hills, and a 
dense white mist hung like a curtain before the 
windows. Winnie could scarcely see the heavy- 
headed scarlet dahlias that nodded, water-logged, 
just beyond the narrow veranda, and the pine- 
trees were dimly-looming gray ghosts, sometimes 
quite hidden, sometimes half revealed. An all- 
pervading feeling of damp added its gift of dis- 
comfort to the dreariness of the sullen skies, and 
everything was clammy to the touch. 

“What a day!” said Winnie. “Water for 
anguish of the solstice! Nugent, please tell them 
to light a fire in the drawing-room; I must have 
something dry to look at.” 

174 


BID THAT HEART STAY. 


175 


The last wood has all got green moss and 
little white branchy things growing on it, so 
pretty, ’m,” said Nugent cheerfully. 

She went to the wood go-down — a boarded 
shed at the back of the house — to return in a 
moment with a terrified face. 

“ There’s something in the woodshed, ’m. I 
saw its big white head,” she gasped. 

“ It can’t be Cripps,” said Winnie, for the 
household scapegoat was sleeping at her feet. 

“ Oh no, ’m; it’s like something under the 
floor poking its head up through the ground — 
all round and white.” 

Practical Janet called for the bearer and a 
hurricane lantern. 

We need not hope for a ghost, as it is only 
ten o’clock in the morning,” said Winnie sadly; 

but we are in the land of the horrible and the 
unexpected, so tell one of the jampdnies to come 
as well as the bearer.” 

By lantern light the “ big white head ” proved 
to be a huge fungus, as large as a footstool, that 
had sprouted between the damp boards. Nu- 
gent weighed it on the meat scale, tied up in a 
duster, and it was over four pounds. 

“ I believe this is the very thing that Mrs. 
Tykes was talking of the other day,” said Janet. 
“ It is an edible kind of puff-ball, and she says 
it is delicious cut into slices and fried with but- 
ter.” 

“ Send it to her at once, then, with my love. 
If she likes to go to heaven on a toadstool, it is 


176 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


not for me to hinder her, but I won’t allow you 
to do so.” 

We can take it this afternoon; we have 
promised to go to her sewing-party.” 

“ Have we? Oh, I felt that there was some- 
thing horrible hanging over my head, and that’s 
it. I can’t go; I simply won’t go. I decline to 
go out on a day like this. Tell her that Nugent 
shall dress dolls, or make a lot of silly fluffy things 
for her bazaar. Nugent loves fussing with ends of 
silk and satin, and so we shall all be happy. 
Come and play for me now, please, dear. How 
tired we shall be of these Serpolette songs be- 
fore we have done with them! 

“ ‘ I must be princess, leastways, madam ; 

That from my style may well be seen.’ 

Cripps! this is not a duet. Go upstairs to Nu- 
gent if my singing gets on your nerves.” 

Winnie was very restless when she was left 
alone that afternoon, and roamed aimlessly about 
the house. She strayed into Janet’s room, and 
smiled at- the neat stiff writing-table, where ink- 
stand, blotting-book, Bible, and Will’s photo- 
graph always occupied exactly the same position. 
She watched the rain, which still fell heavily and 
steadily. The crows were like drowned rats, and 
a slim maina with bright yellow legs was shelter- 
ing in the veranda, keeping a sharp look-out the 
while for possible danger. She took up four 
books in succession, finding nothing to fix her 
attention in any one of them; then by a great 


BID THAT HEART STAY. 


177 


effort of will she sat down before her little em- 
broidery frame, and began to add stitches to the 
delicate satin of what would some day be a screen 
panel. 

The thought of Colonel Strath-Ingram and 
the scene of the day before weighed upon her 
spirit like the recollection of an evil deed. She 
had never seriously intended this to happen. He 
had exceeded his part, and she found a tragic 
comedy a hateful thing. The web that she had 
woven so lightly was tangling round her, and in 
her search for amusement she had met responsi- 
bility with its train of attendant anxieties. Per- 
haps he would forget her soon. He was not 
likely to be a man of long memories; but when 
should she forget? The ending of the episode 
had been insufferable, too. Her cheeks burnt at 
the thought of his last words — “ another kiss.” 
Why had she, how could she have, made it pos- 
sible for him to say such a thing? And yet her 
heart still melted at the memory of his voice — 
the look of his face in the sunset glow. She de- 
spised him for loving the creature she appeared 
to be — a painted brazen-haired woman, frankly 
frivolous; but, still, he had loved her. She had 
stolen that which she did not want, and the world 
was the poorer. She reminded herself of a slight 
of long ago, but it seemed a very trivial thing, 
and the revenge she had taken was dispropor- 
tionate. 

Why had she not realized that while she 
played a comedy the people round her were liv- 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


178 

ing and loving and real? Her own act, the posi- 
tion she had chosen to place herself in, forbade 
her to be one of them. She was a puppet in a 
world of human beings, and her playtime would 
presently be over. She would give herself until 
the spring, until the first of April — a most ap- 
propriate date; and then Mrs. Edwards would 
vanish from India, leaving no address. It was 
the end of August now; she should see Alan 
(she did not know when she had ceased to think 
of him as Major Gilmour) for a few weeks more, 
and after that she should remember him — re- 
member him till the end of her life. She won- 
dered whether the memory would make those 
gray impending years sadder or more endurable. 

But she had always promised Janet that they 
should travel in the cold weather, and his sta- 
tion in the plains was a celebrated city that it 
would be impossible to avoid. She might see 
him once more before life’s night began. A sud- 
den flood of youth, hope and folly swept away her 
dreary thoughts. She was conscious of a mass 
of mental contradictions, and laughed at them 
all. She must not fancy that she was in love with 
him. She had never been in love — it was an un- 
discovered country; but she was happy, and the 
nearest days were golden, and the other days 
were too far away to be considered yet.. 

She threw down a needleful of dark silk, and 
began to outline an arabesque in gold-thread, 
singing softly the while, crooning the first 
snatches of song that came to mind: 


BID THAT HEART STAY. 


179 


“ ‘ I sit beside the fire, I spin upon the wheel ; 

Winter nights for thinking long, round runs the reel ; 
Sparkle o’ the fire, sparkle o’ the fire. 

Mother Mary keep my love and send me my desire.’ ” 

A man’s step sounded in the veranda, and she 
looked up with sudden terror; but the tall, broad- 
shouldered figure that passed the window was not 
Strath-Ingram’s. She called the bearer. 

“ Give a salaam to the sahib,” she said, “ and 
tell them to bring tea at once.” 

“ How lucky I am to find you at home! ” said 
Alan Gilmour, and a damp breath of cloud swept 
into the room after him. “ I know you hate 
going out in the rain, and I thought you might 
be charitable enough to give me a cup of tea.” 

“ Two cups — three if you like. But what have 
you done with your poor pony? Let me tell 
them to take him to the stable.” 

Gilmour watched her as she busied herself 
with a teapot of Lucknow silver, ornamented 
with elephants and snakes, and noticed, as he had 
done at their first meeting, the beauty of her 
hands and wrists. Her wedding-ring annoyed 
him. It was a noticeably broad band of gold, 
only leaving room for one other ring, a half-hoop 
of large rubies and diamonds; and the thought 
of the man who had put them on her finger was 
an acute vexation to him. 

Miss Rosslyn’s scones are a success to-day,” 
said Winnie. She makes them every morning 
as solemnly as though it were a religious cere- 
mony, but the result is a lottery. Sometimes 


i8o 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


they are delightful — like these — and sometimes 
they are dark little lumps that even Cripps sniffs 
at.” 

“ Where is your treasured dog this after- 
noon? ” _ 

“ He has gone to a sewing-party at Mrs. 
Tykes’. He is probably fluttering her hencoops 
now. She dislikes him so much that I always 
send him to teach her Christian charity.” 

Gilmour smiled, and said nothing; he was 
looking at her too intently to feel any need for 
speech. She was very simply dressed: her gray 
gown had a wide Puritan cape of white lawn, and 
a broad white ribbon was wound round her waist. 
Her face was rather pale, and she seemed younger 
and sweeter than he had ever thought her be- 
fore. 

“ What is the news in the gay world? ” she 
said. 

“ I am a poor hard-worked, hard-working 
creature,” he replied, leaning back luxuriously in 
his large chair, “ and I have seen nothing all day 
except the point of my pen.” 

“ That’s better than the point of my needle. 
If this rain goes on, I must find something fresh 
to do, if it’s only suicide. I have no new books, 
I have sung myself hoarse, and I’m tired of stitch- 
ing.” 

“ I thought sewing was always a pleasure and 
comfort to women, just as smoking is to men.” 

“ That is a pretty fiction invented by a man. 
As a matter of fact, your cigarette-case, backed 


BID THAT HEART STAY. l8i 

as a solace against my needle-book, would win 
in a canter.’^ 

“ I never heard you use slang or sporting 
terms before.” 

“ I am afraid you have not listened often, 
then, for I like slang; there is something pic- 
turesque and forcible about it. Don’t you think 

SO.'^ 

“ What I really think, if you won’t be angry, 
is that slang used by you affects me like a slug 
on a rose” 

I must forgive the slug simile, which is not 
pretty, for the sake of the rose, which is.” 

The damp mist had curled Gilmour’s fair hair 
into a little crest above his brow. He would have 
been distressed by its untidiness had he seen it, 
but in Winnie’s eyes the slightly-ruffled hair 
above the strong, fine profile changed the char- 
acter of his face from ordinary good looks to ab ^ 
solute beauty. His tweed coat was in good ac- 
cord with his sunburnt colouring. She liked to 
see him in brown riding-boots; he looked so dif- 
ferent from other men. 

“ I shall have a little picture of you in my 
mind, just as you are now,” she thought, when 
you are a white-haired old general, and have for- 
gotten my very name.” 

How are the chorus rehearsals of ‘ Les 
Cloches ’ getting on? ” she asked. “ I hope you 
know that it’s most condescending of me as a 
‘ principal ’ to make any inquiries? ” 

It’s atrocious: half the women sing out of 


i 82 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


tune, and all the men are making excuses to try 
and get out of the whole thing. I should never 
have gone in for it if I had not thought that we 
were all to rehearse together from the first.” 

“We are having fine times, too: Germaine 
(Mrs. Bryce, you know) refuses to learn her part, 
and spends her time flirting with Gaspard be- 
hind the scenes; and the Baillie has an awful 
temper, and is always threatening that he won’t 
play. Poor Major Morice is a pattern of pa- 
tience, and steadily maintains that it will ^ all 
come right on the night.’ ” 

“ It generally does somehow,” said Gilmour. 
“ May I look at your books? I saw the other 
night that you have quite a little library, and 
that’s very unusual out here.” 

“ I think one of the worst things about India 
is the way people live without books,” said Win- 
nie. “ I know, of course, that they get them 
from libraries, but they do not have well-filled 
shelves round them. It’s partly a bad habit, I be- 
lieve — a tradition of the time when books were 
very costly.” 

“ They weigh fearfully heavy, though.” 

“ So does water; but if one goes into the 
desert one carries a supply of it, all the same.” 

“ You are not likely to die of thirst, at any 
rate.” 

He stooped to look at the bookshelves, which 
were frivolous things of enamelled wood, but held 
a great many books. 

“ Most of my dear old friends are left at 


BID THAT HEART STAY. 


183 


home,” said Winnie; “ these are travelling com- 
panions, and many of them are in rather small 
print; but it’s very much better than not having 
them at all. Fancy that this little shelf holds all 
Thackeray ! ” 

“And Dickens just below; are you old-fash- 
ioned enough to read Dickens? ” 

“ Life must be dreary work without him. 
But I was a greedy reader in my young days; I 
know him too well now, and I am waiting to for- 
get him a little. I was able to re-read ‘ Great Ex- 
pectations ’ the other day, and it was a joy! Do 
you remember the description of Mr. Wopsle’s 
^Hamlet’?” 

“ I remember that he was ' massive and con- 
crete.’ ” 

“Yes; and Gertrude, with her regal tooth- 
ache, and the body of Ophelia arriving for inter- 
ment in an empty black box, with the lid tum- 
bling open! Dear Dickens! ” 

“ The descriptions of plays in his letters were 
always delightful,” said Gilmour. 

“Yes; he was half an actor; his dramatic 
sympathies were perfect. Ah, you are looking at 
my dear little ‘Goblin Market’; that’s a first 
edition. Aren’t the two Rossetti pictures charm- 
ing, especially the tiny one of the girls asleep, 
and the goblins passing the window? Compare 
it with the work of the modern illustrator whose 
only idea of fantasy is hideousness.” 

“ Where do you keep your modern books, by- 
the-by? These are all the immortals.” 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


184 


Sundry of the living immortals — Meredith, 
Hardy, and others — are on the shelves; but if by 
modern you mean the ‘ up-to-date ’ novel (ugly 
but unavoidable phrase), I don’t buy them. They 
are the class of book that I get from a library, and 
return promptly.” 

“ Don’t you believe in the New Woman, 
then? ” 

“ She is frequently neither new nor womanly; 
but I am not speaking now of her aims and 
claims: I only say that when she writes she often 
mistakes coarseness for strength, and that is a 
fault I could cry over if it did not make me so 
angry.” 

She emphasized the last word with a little 
stamp of her foot, and sat down laughing in a 
low wicker chair: he was still kneeling near the 
books. 

“ I’m afraid my chief feeling was disappoint- 
ment,” he said. “ I’d seen a great many reviews 
of two or three novels, and when I read the books 
themselves, I thought: Well, is that all?” 

“ Their intentions are very good,” said Win- 
nie slowly; “ I sympathize with their message 
heart and soul, but the feet of those who bear 
it are not beautiful upon the mountains, and they 
proclaim it out of tune. If it could only be freed 
from the mud and the discord! But they main- 
tain that these unlovely things are an essential 
part of it.” 

I rather think,” said Gilmour, that one 
reason for the tremendous sale of these books is 


BID THAT HEART STAY. 1 85 

that they afford opportunities for discussing sub- 
jects that it would be difficult, to say the least 
of it, to introduce into conversation otherwise.’’ 

“ True; and these discussions, in nine cases 
out of ten, damage the cause of woman more than 
I like to think of. I do resent, too, the way some 
women publish their worst thoughts, their most 
morbid imaginings, saying: ‘ Thus think women; 
we are all like this.’ Then men, with their talent 
for formulating generalities, say: ‘A woman 
writing of her own sex must tell the truth.’ The 
mischief of the written word does not even stop 
there, for some feeble folk set to work to imitate 
pen-and-ink vagaries in their own lives; and the 
rest of us know that it’s all about as serious, 
sensible and original as the bad little boy who 
says ‘ Damn! ’ to be just like papa.” 

“ It is a fashion, and will pass as fashions 
do.” 

I hope so indeed: I know too many books 
that faithfully follow the mediaeval recipe of hew- 
ing pigs into gobbets. Let’s talk of something 
else; I feel too strongly on this subject.” 

“ ^ Let’s ’! Are you one of the women who. 
find it impossible to say ‘ let us ’? ” 

“ I suppose I am, though I never thought of 
it. I did not know you were a purist about parts 
of speech.” 

“Yes; it’s an old-fashioned particularity I 
own, and it does not extend to my own talk.” 

“ That is convenient.” 

The bearer brought lamps, for the dusk had 
13 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


1 86 

drawn in quickly, and the soft golden glow that 
came through their spreading shades seemed to 
complete the charm that Gilmour always found 
in that fantastic room. 

‘‘ Do you like kneeling on the floor? There is 
a chair very near you,’' said Winnie. 

“ Thank you; but one can sit on a chair any- 
where, and I do not kneel on everyone’s floor,” 
he said, laughing a little from sheer content. 

“ You might if you liked, I should think; it’s 
an easily gratified desire. My few poor books are 
not accustomed to having so much notice taken 
of them.” 

“ They are telling me your character. What 
is this big, solemn volume? ” 

‘‘That? Shakespeare — a reprint of the first 
folio.” 

“ And there are two other editions next to 
it; you read him, then?” 

She laid a finger on her laughing lips. 

“ Hush! one must not own it,” she whis- 
pered; “ one reads Shakespeare as secretly as one 
does the Bible; but I have read him, especially in 
far-away days.” , 

“ Do you find that you have no time for 
reading now? ” 

“ The people who say that would find no time 
for reading if they were imprisoned for life in the 
British Museum Library; I know the phrase.” 

“This is a well-worn Keats; may I look at 
it?” 

“ Do; it’s larded with sweet flowers — dried 


BID THAT HEART STAY. 


87 


ones — and is sure to open at ‘ Fair Isabel, poor 
simple Isabel!’ by reason of the sweet basil 
there.” * 

“ Yes, it does; why that is tulsi^ the holy tiilsi 
of the Hindus.” 

“ It is also sweet basil, though it was rather a 
grief to me when I discovered it. The smell is a 
homely one, and suggests kitchen-gardens and 
pot herbs.” 

Isabel should have chosen lemon verbena. 
Where is the ‘ Ode to a Nightingale ’? One verse 
of it describes India.” 

“ Which verse? Read it, please.” 

He was admirably without self-consciousness, 
and read: 

“ ‘ The weariness, the fever, and the fret. 

Here, where men sit and hear each other groan ; 

Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs. 

Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies, 
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow 
And leaden-eyed despairs, 

Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, 

Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.’ ” 

‘‘ Oh, what a dreary India! ” said Winnie. “ It 
is not half as bad as that; why do you take such 
melancholy views? ” 

“ One can’t help it at times. Has your life 
been so happy that you have never taken them 
yourself? ” 

“ Does anyone ever own to a happy life? ” 
she said, smiling. “ I have noticed that when 
fortune-tellers look at a hand they always say, 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


1 88 

' Ah, you have had a great deal of trouble ! ’ and 
the plumpest and most prosperous people agree 
complacently.” 

“Yes; but your own life — has it been 
happy? ” 

“ No, I think I may honestly say it has not; 
though perhaps my miseries were minor ones.” 

He was feverishly anxious that she should 
speak of her husband’s death. 

“ But when your great sorrow came,” he be- 
gan blunderingly, “ that must have been ” 

Winnie sprang up with a shiver, and went to 
the window. 

“ I never can talk of my troubles; it hurts too 
much. Listen how this terrible rain goes on — 
there is something inexorable about it; the very 
sunset was gray to-night, and looked as though 
there would never be a sunrise.” 

“ Have I offended you? ” he asked, following 
her. 

“ Nonsense, no! Only this weather puts me 
on the sharp edge. Please sing me something — 
a joyful song for choice.” 

She spoke at random, with the instinct that 
it would be well to check his next words. He 
was more minded to speak than to sing, but the 
tone of her voice warned him to respect her 
mood, and he went to the piano at once. After 
all, it was a very fitting time for “ To Anthea, 
who may command him anything.” 

Winnie started a little at the opening chords 
and the first burst of words: 


BID THAT HEART STAY. 


189 


“ Bid me to live, and I will live 
Thy Protestant to be ; 

Or bid me love, and I will give 
A loving heart to thee.’ ” 

What a fervent, passionate thing it was! She 
had never heard him sing like this before; and 
she tilted a primrose shade that her face might 
be more deeply shadowed, as the tender phrases 
rang out and the triumphant ending came: 

‘ “ Thou art my life, my love, my heart. 

The very eyes of me ! 

And hast command of every part 
To live or die for thee.’ ” 

She tried to say, What a nice old-fashioned, 
extravagant song that is!” but her lips moved 
mutely; and he was standing near her, looking 
like one who seeks an answer. The rattle of 
Janet’s rickshaw in the veranda broke a tension 
of expectation, and was an intolerable interrup- 
tion. 

“ It is too late now,” he said. “ Good-bye — 
Anthea.” 

She realized afterwards that, instead of the 
usual leave-taking, he had bent his head and 
kissed her hand. At the moment the act had 
seemed to be part of his song. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


“ ONCE A BOY A ROSE ESPIED.” 

“ Shy as the squirrel that leaps among the pine-tops, 

Wayward as the swallow overhead at set of sun, 

She whom I love is hard to catch and conquer — 

Hard, but O the glory of the winning were she won ! 

George Meredith. 

“ What are you going to wear to-day, 
Nancy? 

“ My thinnest gray habit, dear. It’s sure to 
be rather warm.” 

“Then you had better have your rickshaw; 
you never give your jampdnies any work in the 
daytime.” 

“ One generally does ride to a picnic, and 
my blue gown is very thick.” 

“ Why not put on the white serge? ” said 
Mrs. Ivey. 

“ But it will only be a little picnic, mammy — 
Mrs, Alehin said so — and the white serge is nearly 
new.” 

“ Thrifty child! But I don’t like you to look 
shabby, and the fewer people there are, the more 
you will be noticed. Run and dress now, 
dear; you mustn’t keep Mrs. Edwards wait- 
ing.” 


ONCE A BOY A ROSE ESPIED. 


I9I 

Nancy's white serge was fashioned in a way 
suggestive of the riding habit that stage tradi- 
tion assigns to Lucy Ashton, and her sweet eyes 
were shadowed by a large black hat, with black 
feathers. 

“ I wish you were coming, mother,", she 
said, as she turned slowly round for inspec- 
tion. 

' “I am not fond of picnics; I always have a 
headache after spending a whole day out of doors. 
Yes, darling; you look quite neat. Take your 
cloak, and don’t forget to put it on coming 
home." 

Winnie was waiting at a turn of the road. 

Fairly punctual," she said. And what a 
pretty gown, Nancy! But I really cannot allow 
you to wear black and white; that is poaching 
on my preserves." 

‘‘ There are three pink roses somewhere under 
my hat-brim at the back," said Nancy apologetic- 
ally. 

Winnie was in a French gown of white and 
black check, her vivid hair crowned by a strik- 
ingly-becoming toque, which, viewed in the hand, 
seemed a well-nigh demented construction of jet, 
white velvet, and black violets. She appeared to 
be a little absent, and sat gazing across to where 
Simla lay out on the mountain-side looking like 
a collection of toy-houses. 

‘‘ Are you waiting for anyone? " asked Nancy 
simply. 

Oh no. Janet is on ahead, escorted by Mr. 


192 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


Roseway. That flirtation is becoming most 
marked, and you and I will take care of each 
other.” 

Their rickshaws rattled quickly down the long 
steep road to the Glen. Early September had 
brought a break in the rains as a promise of their 
ending, and the day was radiantly lovely. Moss 
and ferns and a revel of green things ran riot over 
the hillsides, scaling the tree-trunks, and draping 
the branches with emerald velvet and waving 
verdant plumes. A babble of little streams hur- 
rying down to the valleys made the air soft and 
musical, and ranges of washed mountains spread 
far as eye might see in the dazzle of the morning 
sun. 

What’s to be done now?” asked Winnie, 
when the road brought them to a sign-post point- 
ing to tangled depths of green which it termed 
The Glen.” “ I have never been here before. 
Do we leave the rickshaws, and walk on our own 
flat feet?” 

“Yes; we shall soon find the others.” 

Their path lay over short turf enamelled with 
young flowers, and blotched with sudden lumps 
of gray rock — down, and still down. 

“ The sun is much too hot. Why do people 
choose such a stuffy place? ” said Winnie, walk- 
ing delicately. 

“ The Glen itself is beautifully cool. Don’t 
be afraid.” 

“ At last! I began to think you weren’t com- 
ing! ” cried an eager voice. 


ONCE A BOY A ROSE ESPIED. 


193 

And Nancy blushed till she was as pink as her 
three roses. 

“ How do you do, Mr. Adare? Are we on the 
right track? ’’ 

Winnie spoke, but he did not answer her. He 
was looking at the down-dropped lashes that for 
once veiled Nancy's frank eyes. 

Is this the right way? ” repeated Winnie. 

Oh yes; it’s only just a little lower down.” 

Sholto Adare was a tall, thin young man, with 
a long pale face and a small black moustache. 
He belonged to an English cavalry regiment, and 
had only come to Simla to spend a month’s leave 
and escape the plains at their worst. But the 
brief visit seemed fated to have a lasting influence 
upon him, for Nancy’s young eyes, still wound- 
ing where they looked, had all unwittingly 
wrought mischief. 

She hardly spoke as they followed the wind- 
ing path to its ending near a patch of smooth 
grass, a bickering little brown stream, and a 
group of people. Winnie saw at a glance that 
the tall figure she looked for was not there, and 
the day became a weariness. 

“ It’s so good of you to come, Mrs. Ed- 
wards! ” cried Mrs. Alehin, in her thin voice; 
“ but I’m afraid you’ll find it dreadfully dull. I 
haven’t a single A.D.C. for you.” 

You are too modest. I can see Captain 
Curtis over there.” 

Oh, but I thought he didn’t count. He’s 
not viceregal.” 


194 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


We’ll ask him if he thinks he counts.” 

And Sir Galahad cried off at the last min- 
ute, which I call mean of him. I used to fancy 
that he had better manners than most men, but 
he is just as bad as the rest of them. I got a 
note from him yesterday, saying that he was off 
to Narkunda for a week.” 

“ It must be beautiful there now,” said Win- 
nie, imitating a smile so perfectly that Mrs. Al- 
ehin was deceived. 

I wonder if she has refused him,” she 
thought. “ Men are fools enough for anything, 
but, still, it is hardly likely. The Pinchbeck 
would appreciate her bird in the hand now that 
Colonel Strath-Ingram has escaped from the 
snare of the fowler.” 

And Winnie’s heart was crying out, Why 
has he gone? Is it to think, or to escape, or to 
show me that he wishes to free himself from any 
thought of me? He might have told me that he 
meant to go.” 

The picnic was a small one — less than twenty 
people. Curtis stood aloof for a few minutes, but 
Adare talked so resolutely to Nancy that he per- 
force had to content himself with a place near 
Winnie. 

''You look sad,” she said. "I think it re- 
quires a really young and merry heart, like Mrs. 
Bertie Vernon’s, to enjoy, or even endure, a pic- 
nic.” 

" I like them sometimes.” 

" I mistrust our hostess; she is sure to make 


ONCE A BOY A ROSE ESPIED. 


195 


US do fearful things. Even when one dines with 
her one has to play games that are either intel- 
lectual or ignominious, sometimes both.” 

“ The last time I dined there she made us all 
draw pigs with our eyes shut, and write our 
names under them — ' portraits,’ she called it,” 
said Curtis gloomily. 

“ Oh, I know that ‘ Pig Book.’ I have learnt 
to turn yawns to laughter over it; but it’s better 
than ‘Word-making and Word-taking.’” 

Lunch was not a merry feast, though Mrs. 
Alehin was in elaborately jovial spirits. Nancy 
scarcely spoke, and Adare ate nothing, but lived 
by gazing. 

“How I hate sitting on the ground!” said 
Winnie softly. “ It makes an old woman of me 
in ten minutes. It’s an absolutely unbecoming 
position; and when with difficulty we all scram- 
ble to our feet again, we shall look like a cripples’ 
home out for a holiday.” 

“ I beg your pardon? ” said Curtis. 

“ I couldn’t possibly repeat it. The silly little 
speech has gone where the old moons go, and the 
snows of yester-year, and the loves of last season, 
and other forgotten things.” 

“ Yes, last season seems peculiarly far away,” 
he said, with mournful emphasis. 

“ Did you bring your banjo. Captain Curtis? ” 
asked Mrs. Alehin. 

“ Oh, I’m awfully sorry; I quite forgot.” 

“ You remembered to forget,” whispered 
Winnie. 


196 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


'' But it doesn’t really matter,” he went on, 
“ for Mrs. Edwards can sing most charmingly 
without any accompaniment at all. No one will 
regret my strumming.” 

“ Oh, do sing us something, Mrs. Edwards! ” 
Do sing! ” “ You must sing! ” rose in a polite 
little chorus. 

‘‘ But I have forgotten everything except 
songs from ' Les Qoches,’ and I am utterly and 
absolutely tired of them, and so will you all be 
soon.” 

Oh no; just one verse.” 

Winnie looked mischievous, and broke into a 
merry little refrain: 

“ ‘ Apples are tossed, hearts are lost, 

And if a girl should be won this day 
I wish good luck may betide her ! ” 

But I forgot: Major Morice told us not to sing 
one line of our songs in public. ' Les Cloches ’ 
is so perfectly new and fresh that he wishes it to 
come as a dazzling surprise. You must all keep 
my secret.” 

“ Well, if nobody will sing to us, I think we 
had better play something, some really nice game. 
I brought pencils and paper on purpose,” said 
Mrs. Alehin. 

Rising to get them, she went across to Nancy. 

“ Will you take Sholto to see the bend of the 
stream I admire so much, dear? Where the big 
rock is, you know. I want him to see it.” 

Sholto sprang up eagerly, and Mrs. Alehin 


ONCE A BOY A ROSE ESPIED, 


197 


sat down by Winnie. Her guests were now talk- 
ing with animation, hoping to avert the dreaded 
games. 

“Aren’t they a good-looking couple?” she 
said, indicating the two slender young figures 
walking away together. 

“ I call him too dark and sallow for beauty,” 
said Winnie. 

“ Oh, but that makes such a good contrast 
with the Lily Maid. I have known Sholto ever 
since he was a school-boy. He is a dear fellow, 
and his mother is charming.” 

“ Really? ” said Winnie. 

And Curtis bit his moustache. 

“ Yes, and so devoted to him. He is her only 
child, and it is the dream of her life that he should 
marry and settle down. They are so rich, too. 
He had a long minority, and she simply lives for 
him. Her collection of old lace is enough to kill 
one with envy. Nancy is a very lucky girl; I was 
telling Mrs. Ivey so yesterday.” 

“ Isn’t that a little previous? ” 

“ It’s a foregone conclusion,” cried Mrs. Al- 
ehin, with a little shriek, “ for it’s an absolutely 
ideal match — every possible worldly advantage 
and love at first sight. Of course, dear little 
Nancy is not half clever enough for Sholto, but 
she is very sweet.” 

“ She has only known him a few days.” 

“ Life is not always measured by time, though, 
and emotions never,” said Mrs. Alehin, sighing. 

“ Do you never write? ” asked Winnie quick- 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


ly. “ That last phrase did so suggest one of the 
‘ Pseudonym ’ books.” 

Mrs. Alehin took the bait. 

“ It is strange that you should say that ; I 
have been asked it so often. It must be some- 
thing in the way I talk. I think I will write a 
novel some day, when I have time, and if I only 
put into it one half the queer people I have met, 
and the strange things that have happened in my 
life, it ought to be a great success.” 

Nancy meanwhile was walking with long 
steps, swinging her white sunshade. She felt 
very self-conscious and uncomfortable, and won- 
dered whether she herself or Mr. Adare was to 
blame for this. The place he occupied in her 
thoughts was disproportionate to the few days 
during which she had known him, and her sim- 
ple mind could not account for this in any satis- 
factory way. It was not that she liked him par- 
ticularly, for she considered him amiable, but af- 
fected, and his mode of speech and choice of 
words often struck her as being peculiar, and even 
fantastic. The brand of his University education 
was indelibly impressed upon him, and it was not 
a stamp that she admired or was accustomed to. 
She could only condone his weakness for quota- 
tion because he shared it with her dear Mrs. Ed- 
wards. 

Her own influence or effect upon him was a 
matter that she had not considered. She was not 
the type of girl who hopes to meet a lover, or at 
least an admirer, in each new acquaintance, and 


ONCE A BOY A ROSE ESPIED. 


199 


she could look at her face in a mirror without 
either exhilaration or expectation. She did not 
know that her whole life had been sweetened by 
her pleasant prettiness; she was like a rich man 
unable to realize poverty, and had no thought 
of the power of her charm of looks. It was an 
economical advantage that she could wear the 
simplest gowns, and had no difficulty in finding 
becoming hats; but for her the question of her 
appearance ended there. 

She could think of nothing to say; she had 
never found Sholto easy to talk to, and she raised 
her hand nervously to her cheek now and again, 
as though his gaze were a tangible touch. 

You are walking very quickly,’’ he said. 

“Yes; I always do.” 

“ Not always; the first time I saw you you 
were walking quite slowly.” 

“ How can you recollect? ” 

“ I forget nothing that concerns you.” 

“ This is the rock that Mrs. Alehin wanted 
you to see,” said Nancy hastily. She was breath- 
ing hurriedly after her quick walk, and sat down 
on a gray stone only large enough for one. 

“ It’s beautiful, but rather dreary,” he said, 
after a moment of standing with bared head and 
upturned eyes; “why is India so flowerless? In 
all this miraculously green grass there is hardly 
a flower to be seen.” 

“ English streams are so lovely,” said Nancy. 
“ One of my aunts lives in the country; I always 
spent my summer holidays with her, and in a field 


200 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS.- 


not far from the house there was such a dear little 
stream. Meadowsweet grew in great clumps near 
it, and big blue forget-me-nots with quite pink 
buds, and tall flags, and those beautiful white 
daisies.” 

Sholto threw himself on the grass at her feet. 

“ You might be describing our brook, not 
the river that we boat on, though that is very 
lovely, too, in its way, but just as you say, a dear 
little stream. I came across a verse the other 
day which was like a breath of England: 

“ How that elder piles and masses 
Her great blooms snowy-sweet ! 

Do you see through the serried grasses 
The forget-me-nots at your feet ? 

And the fringe of flags that encloses 
The water? and how the place 
Is alive with pink dog-roses 
Soft-coloured like your face ? ” 

Nancy was uncomfortable and a little impa- 
tient when he repeated verse; she thought it 
silly, and his voice changed in a way that worried 
her; it assumed a higher note, and its cadence 
became a cultured monotonous sing-song. 

“ You really ought not to sit on the grass; 
you are sure to get cold or fever,” she said. 

“ Oh no, I am a very hardy creature; but tell 
me if you like that verse. To me it means home 
and — you. ‘ Soft-coloured like your face.' ” 

Nancy’s face blushed from pink rose to crim- 
son rose. 

'' We ought to go back to the others; it will 
soon be tea-time.” 


ONCE A BOY A ROSE ESPIED. 


201 


“ Ah, not yet ! Do stay a little lorrger to show 
that you are not angry with me.” 

He attached a foolish importance to trifles, 
she thought; when she was with him, she was 
constantly either granting or pardoning some- 
thing; and it was generally all about nothing. 

He leant a thin hand on the grass and looked 
at her earnestly; his dark eyes shone strangely 
in the face that was a little too long and much 
too pale. 

“ It seems so strange to remember now that 
I could not make up my mind whether to come 
to Simla or not,” he said suddenly; “it’s awful 
to think that I nearly went to Naini Tal.” 

“ I believe it’s a very pretty place,” she said. 
She had found a little clump of rushes, and was 
trying to plait them into a basket. 

“ But it was fate, and it began so soon. I saw 
you the very first morning — the very first thing. 
I don’t know why I went out early— I rarely do 
it; it was a spirit in my feet, I think. I went 
out that morning, and just by the lovely bit of 
road, where all those pine-trees are, near Chota 
Simla, I saw you.” 

There was a pause; Nancy was very busy with 
her rushes. 

“You were alone and walking slowly; you 
looked as though you were thinking of some- 
thing happy. You were all in blue — a dull, soft 
blue — with a big white hat.” 

“ A pith solaJi topee^ I suppose,” she said, 
snapping a rush. 

14 


202 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“ You looked at me as you passed; I saw your 
eyes. I saw nothing else that morning, though 
I walked miles.” 

“ You must have a most wonderful mem- 
ory.” 

“ I saw you again in the afternoon,” he went 
on; “ you were riding by your mother’s rickshaw, 
and I heard you laugh. I found out your name 
then, and came to call next day; do you remem- 
ber? ” 

“Yes; mother and I noticed that you hardly 
spoke; you did not quote anything that day; ” 
and she laughed nervously and more loudly than 
she intended. 

“ The quotation was in my heart; will you 
hear it? ‘ Here, by God’s grace, is the one maid 
for me.’ ” 

His long fingers caught her soft hands and 
the green tangle that they held. She started, 
and her eyes were like a frightened child’s. 

“You are not surprised, Nancy? Darling, 
surely you knew — you must have known — that I 
loved you from the very first? ” 

“I didn’t— indeed I didn’t!” 

“ Don’t say that ; how could I have shown 
you more plainly? The thought of you has been 
like a golden thread running through everything. 
Why, you are trembling like a startled bird! My 
sweet, I never meant to frighten you; forgive 
me!” 

He stood up, letting go her hands, and the 
action was a release and a relief to her, though 


ONCE A BOY A ROSE ESPIED. 


203 

her heart still almost choked her by too rapid 
beating. 

“ The days have been so long to me, fraught 
with so much since I knew you; the hope of win- 
ning you has been the best part of my life for 
ages, as it seems to me. I had forgotten that it 
is only a little over a fortnight, as we count time, 
since we met. Dearest, I am so grieved to have 
startled you; I should have remembered that 
flower-face and flower-soul went together. It 
half delighted me and half maddened me from the 
first that you were always so cold and pure and 
sweet.” 

“ I — I am so sorry that you think you care for 
me,” began Nancy, feeling for words. 

“Ah, darling, not that! I have been too 
hasty; I don’t ask for a definite answer now; I 
can’t take one. I’ll wait for months — for years, 
if you like!” 

She longed to be alone; the thought of her 
own white room was like a haven of refuge. She 
was excited, grieved, and a little glad: thrilled 
with a strange sense of power, and troubled by a 
feeling of absolute helplessness. If she could only 
run away and be alone! He was too near her, 
his voice was too eager, and she could not look at 
his eyes. The crimson flush on her cheeks was so 
deep that it disfigured her; she had an impulse to 
hide her face, and raised her handkerchief nerv- 
ously to her lips now and again. 

“ I won’t say a word more now,” said Sholto, 
in a restrained voice, after a little silence; “you 


204 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


will teach me patience, darling! I believe I have 
been a spoilt child all my life. That is my moth- 
er’s fault. You don’t know how she will love 
you, Nancy!” 

But you mustn’t think that ” 

“ I shall think nothing till you give me the 
right to do so; I shall only have dreams, happy 
dreams.” 

“ We had better end it now; if you said I 

was unkind later ” she began, forcing herself 

to speak clearly, but still with downcast eyes. 

He was on the grass at her feet again. 

“ Believe me, I could never blame you what- 
ever happened, and, remember, I ask nothing 
now, but that you should listen to me again in 
the future. You are plighted to nothing, only 
to let me speak.” 

She sighed, and bent her head silently. 

“ You told me the other day that you liked 
living in the country,” he said; “ Swanhills, my 
home, you know is such a dear old house in the 
heart of Worcestershire, a region that is all 
flushed pink with apple-orchards in the spring. 
I know you would love the garden; roses are my 
mother’s favourite flower, and her rose-garden is 
a great delight to her.” 

You won’t misunderstand me?” said Nancy. 

‘‘ Only trust me! ” Bending his dark head, 
he kissed the hem of her white dress as it lay upon 
the grass. 

Oh, don’t ! ” she cried, half laughing, half 
sorry. 


ONCE A BOY A ROSE ESPIED. 


205 


“ I would so gladly kiss your little shoe,” 
said Sholto. 

On the way back Nancy was struck by a 
stinging thought, a poisoned suggestion: had 
her mother guessed this, and wished for it? Was 
there treachery in the choice of the white serge? 
Uncertainty was unbearable; she must know at 
once: it was terrible to doubt her best beloved. 

“ Did — have you said anything to my mother 
about this? ” she asked suddenly. 

Not a word; I did not venture to till I had 
spoken to you, and had your permission to speak. 
Shall you tell her now? ” he added, after a mo- 
ment. 

“Why, I tell mother everything!” she said, 
Vvdth wide-eyed surprise. 

“ Oh, you darling! Forgive me; I beg your 
pardon for saying that.” 

And they returned to the others, who were 
wearily and drearily playing bouts-rim^s. 


CHAPTER XV. 


THAT THOU ART BLAMED SHALL NOT BE THY 
DEFECT.” 

“ The stars some cadence use ; 

Forthright the river flows ; 

In order fall the dews. 

Love blows as the wind blows. 

Blows ! . . . and what reckoning shows 
The courses of his chart ? 

A spirit that comes and goes ; 

Love blows into the heart.” 

W. E. Henley. 

It was raining heavily from a leaden sky when 
Gilmour set out for the last march into Simla. 
Dank clouds hid everything save a few feet of the 
wet road before him, and the sodden pines dripped 
drearily, and the air was close and muggy. The 
clinging damp condensed into little water-drops 
on every hair of his tweed Norfolk jacket, and his 
strong boots squelched as he walked quickly 
through the watery ways. His face was set and 
troubled, for he had been compelled to make an 
admission of failure, and although it was only a 
mental admission, it was still very galling. He 
compared himself to a man who, after years of 
perfect health, suddenly contracts a mortal dis- 
ease — an exaggerated simile; but his feelings 

2o& 


THAT THOU ART BLAMED. 


207 

were overwrought, his whole mode of thought 
exaggerated. 

Since the evening when he had sung To 
Anthea,” his mind and heart had been at mortal 
war, and his week at Narkunda was intended to 
give them space and place for a final conflict; 
but they were still fighting. He assured himself 
that his love for Winnie Edwards was a transient 
glamour, and wished to Heaven that it were so 
in the same breath. 

His scheme of existence had never included 
the possibility of experiencing a passionate love; 
he preferred a quiet domestic affection, a homely 
glow to warm the family hearth, not this brilliant 
leaping flame. He had been smitten down as 
the sun strikes: yes, it was very like sunstroke 
— as sudden, as unexpected, almost as unwel- 
come. For why, in the name of all that was per- 
verse and impish, should he have been so power- 
fully attracted by what he theoretically detested? 

It was bad enough to be in love with a woman 
who rouged her cheeks, and was noted for her 
ankles, and whose dark eyes gave the lie to her 
resplendent hair; but all that would not have 
mattered if she had not been a widow. And a 
widow with. a child; he hated the very thought 
of Daisy. It would be impossible for him ever to 
forget his predecessor. Then he checked himself; 
he was assuming far too boldly that she would be 
willing to marry him. She had given no sign 
that she cared for him, and he had given no 
surety that his thoughts of her were serious. He 


208 


A PINCHBECK CODDESS. 


was pledged to nothing. He might leave Simla 
at the end of the season, in all honour and hon- 
esty, never to see her again; and the prospect 
filled him with desolation. 

If he lacked courage for this, if he ignored 
the doubts and fears that came and went and 
came again like shadows, and told her of all the 
love and longing that filled his heart, what would 
her answer be? He thought he knew, and noth- 
ing coherent followed that blessed thought for 
some little time. 

Then the Demon of Doubt returned, bring- 
ing seven other devils with him. Even granting 
this, what would come after the first fine careless 
rapture? Could it be happiness? To begin with, 
her rr ney was an obstacle, and those cursed dia- 
monds! He was unduly sensitive, perhaps, but 
he loathed the idea of seeing his wife decked in 
the gifts of her dead husband — gifts, too, that it 
was impossible for him to hope to rival. As for 
her money, not a penny of that should benefit 
him; it should be settled on herself and Daisy. 

Daisy again! Winnie had grown strangely 
reticent about her lately. He had even tried, 
with an instinct of self-torture, to induce her to 
talk of the child, and she had evaded the subject. 
He could not bear to think that she was an un- 
loving mother, but surely she was behaving like 
one. A mere search for amusement had made 
her leave her child in the first place, and she 
had no photographs of her, only the little paint- 
ing in the copper frame. It was pain to think 


THAT THOU ART BLAMED. 


209 


that no child of his could be her first and dear- 
est, but it was misery to imagine her devoid of 
natural affection. Now that he came to remem- 
ber she had no photographs of her husband, 
either — at least, none in evidence in her drawing- 
room; and, save at the very beginning of their 
acquaintance, she had made no reference to him. 
He had once spoken of Mr. Edwards to Miss 
Rosslyn, but she was so evidently distressed and 
confused that pity had silenced his curiosity. 

The obvious explanation that Mrs. Edwards 
was an adventuress had been rejected by him 
long before. In spite of her follies, she had the 
eyes, voice, and manner of a good woman. If 
she. was a divorcee, the sufferer for another’s 
fault, it would account for Miss Rosslyn’s embar- 
rassed manner, and her own avoidance of her hus- 
band’s name; but he remembered that this avoid- 
ance was of recent date, and dismissed the 
idea. No doubt Mr. Edwards lay under a highly- 
respectable tombstone at Kensal Green or else- 
where, and he was tormenting himself for noth- 
ing. 

Had she understood the meaning of his im- 
pulsive action, of the one word “ Anthea ” on 
that gray, rainy, glorious evening, or was she ac- 
customed to more explicit declarations? 

Then his mood changed. He was a brute to 
malign her, merely because, like another most 
innocent lady, she was ‘‘ fair, lived well, loved 
company.” After all, why should she not use the 
foolish, harmless embellishments that have been 


210 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


dear to women since the world began? If he 
judged her by her friends, she shone out faultless. 
Mrs. Bertie Vernon was sooner caught than the 
pestilence. There was no knowing whom she 
might elect to afflict. She did not count; but 
Mrs. Myles was a thoroughly nice little woman, 
and Nancy Ivey one of the sweetest girls he had 
ever seen, and they had both an enthusiasm for 
Winnie. It spoke volumes in her praise, too, that 
Mrs. Ivey often asked her to chaperon Nancy. 
Even that “ fretful porcupine ” Mrs. Tykes 
seemed to be fond of her. Who could help being? 
But yet, being all she was that was dear and love- 
worthy, if she could only be quite different, how 
delightful it would be! He thought of his moth- 
er’s pale face and gray hair, and his sister’s honest 
rosy cheeks; the metallic head and the careful 
tinting would seem meretricious, and utterly out 
of harmony in that quiet, pleasant little house. 
His decision was as far away as ever; but the 
clouds dispersed as he reached Simla, the rain 
ceased, the sun came to dry the world, and he 
should see her soon. It was ten days since he 
had seen her last, and, oh, the age away! 

A printed notice from Major Morice was 
waiting him at the club — a rehearsal of “ Les 
Cloches,” principals and chorus together, was to 
be held at 4.30. He was implored to attend in 
terms of almost passionate entreaty. With all 
his haste in changing and riding down to the 
theatre, he was only in time to be too late for 
the chance of a word with Winnie before re- 


THAT THOU ART BLAMED. 


2II 


hearsal began. He saw her livery, black with a 
white monogram, among the waiting jampdnie^ 
at the stage door, and Cripps pricked a recog- 
nising ear and wagged a friendly tail from the 
rickshaw, where he lay in great comfort. Her 
voice, raised in song, greeted him as he entered: 

“ ‘ I must be princess, leastways, madam ; 

That from my style may well be seen.’ ” 


The chorus was arranged somewhat awkward- 
ly on the narrow stage, for they had not yet 
learnt their groupings; and the lamps at the 
wings lit up Winnie, who was the central figure. 
The crude lights and hard shades needed a lover’s 
eye to condone them, but he thought he had 
never seen her look more beautiful. She was all 
in white — a simple woollen gown, but it shone 
out against the dark coats and skirts that were 
the only wear of the other ladies, and a little 
Puritan bonnet of black velvet made an incident 
of dull shadow among her gleaming hair. 

Gilmour slipped quietly into one of the stage- 
boxes, where the keen eyes of Morice, stage- 
managing from the stalls, soon detected him. 

“ Hullo, Gilmour! better late than never. I 
began to wonder when you were coming back. 
You’ve missed a lot of rehearsals. Take your 
place over to the right there.” 

“ I have had wretched weather all the time I 
was away,” he said, when his first chance came of 
speaking to Winnie. 


212 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“ Oh, have you been away? ” she said, glanc- 
ing up from some fashion plates. ‘‘No, I haven’t 
quite made up my mind as to the colours yet, 
Mrs. Bryce. I wanted to ask you. I suppose we 
ought to harmonize.” 

■ She had not even noticed that he had been 
away. He accepted her words in all simplicity, 
and did not draw the honey from them that a 
vainer man might have found there. 

“ Second act — second act, please,” cried 
Morice. 

And they formed anew. 

It was a loathsome way of spending an after- 
noon, Gilmour thought, as he joined mechanically 
in a chorus, herded together like cattle in a pen, 
on a grubby little stage in a stuffy little theatre, 
howling doggerel. Germaine gave him a very 
sweet glance. He found it difficult to smile in 
answer. 

“ Wrong exit, Gilmour — left, left.” 

Well, thank goodness, he was off the stage 
now, and the principals would be making fools 
of themselves for some time before the chorus 
was wanted again; he would have a cigarette 
outside. 

A burst of laughter came tom one of the 
stage-boxes, where a woman in white was talking 
to several men. 

“ Less noise, please, Serpolette,”'said Morice. 

Vulgar familiar beast, Morice! He might as 
well call her by her own Christian name while he 
was about it! That was what women got for 


THAT THOU ART BLAMED. 


213 


mixing themselves up in these absurd theatricals. 
If he ever married, his wife should never be al- 
lowed to act. 

“ Do you think there is any tea? I am so 
dreadfully thirsty,” said a lady of the chorus 
plaintively. 

“ The usual school-feast turn-out — thick cups ' 
and chunks of cake — is spread near the stairs,” 
he replied gloomily. 

“ Oh, thank you very much. Til come with 
you and get a cup; my throat is absolutely 
parched. I often think that people don’t realize 
how much we actors give up for their sake. I 
always have to take my ride in the morning 
now.” 

She was an angular woman, with one of those 
unfortunate noses which have been described for 
all time as “ not so much a feature as a limb ”; 
but the eyes above the long nose shot self-satis- 
fied glances, and the mouth beneath it simpered 
complacently. Gilmour felt certain that she con- 
sidered herself a great acquisition to the com- 
pany. 

“ Only it’s rather lonely all by one’s self,” she 
went on. Do you never ride in the morning. 
Major Gilmour? ” 

“ I can never manage to be up in time in the 
hills, somehow,” he said hastily. “ It takes hot 
weather to get me out before breakfast.” 

Oh, what lazy people you men are! You 
all say that.” 

How do you think ‘ Les Cloches ’ is getting 


214 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


on? You know, I have missed several rehears- 
als,” he said, changing the subject. 

“ Oh, awfully well! Mrs. Bryce will be sweet 
as Germaine. It’s a great pity we are not equally 
fortunate with Serpolette.” 

“ Mrs. Edwards seems to me to be about the 
only one who knows her part.” 

“ Oh, she can sing, of course, but she is the 
sort of woman who thinks about nothing but 
flirting and amusing herself. Think of coming 
to a rehearsal in a white dress! ” 

A fresh contingent of the chorus filled the 
small room to over-brimming, and Gilmour es- 
caped. He had lost his desire for a cigarette, 
and prowled among the shadows until he dis- 
covered Winnie, who was alone in a box, observ- 
ing a little altercation between the Baillie on the 
stage and Morice in the stalls. 

It simply comes to this: if I am to act the 
part at all, Morice, I must do it in my own way. 
Of course, if you can get a substitute, I shall 

be only too glad to ” 

“ My dear fellow, we are less than a fort- 
night off the night. All that I wanted to say 


“ Don’t be agitated,” said Winnie to Gilmour; 
we are used to this falling out of faithful friends, 
and it means nothing. I hope the chorus is not 
trembling, and expecting the whole ring o’ bells 
to break up.” 

I should not care, for one.” 

‘‘ You are the exception that proves the rule; 


THAT THOU ART BLAMED. 


215 

you make a point of being so. Are they drinking 
tea here? ” 

“ In battalions and hollow squares. Would 
you like some? ” 

“ No, thank you. I had a great deal at home 
in a thin cup; I cannot drink over a stone wall. 
I wish these good people would go on rehears- 
ing.’’ 

“ After all, it is I who have got to act the 
part, and ” 

“ But, my dear fellow, all I wanted to say 


“ I do now let loose my opinion,” said Win- 
nie, looking from the flushed face of the Baillie 
to the shadowed features of Morice in the stalls: 
“ the more public private theatricals are, the 
worse it is for them. I don’t suppose a mere 
ordinary play is as bad as an operetta, but with 
all these people who think they can sing, the 
naive displays of vanity and spite have been a lit- 
tle terrible. It is human failings seen through 
a magnifying-glass. I’m so glad my own are mer- 
cifully hidden from my piercing ken.” 

“ It hadn’t struck me in that light.” 

“ Consider the chorus from that point of view. 
Aren’t you all longing to be principals, except 
you, the shining exception, who declined to be? 
That woman with the nose, Mrs. Layard, simply 
transfixes me with an evil eye as soon as I begin 
to sing. I see her lips moving to the very phrases 
as she thinks how much better she would render 
them.” 


2i6 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


You are pleased to be severe this after- 
noon.” 

“ I am suffering from a determination of ‘ Just 
look at that, just look at this,’ to the head, and 
Nugent deaved me for one mortal hour this 
morning about frocks for the tiresome business. 
It is greatly to my credit that she still lives.” 

“ Are the dresses to be very pretty? ” 

“ Peasant costumes chiefly of the degradingly 
conventional kind. I am having sabots made for 
the first act; they will look so delightfully ab- 
surd with silk stockings. Do listen to those 
men! ” 

“ It’s absolutely necessary at that point that 
I must be in the very centre of the stage.” 

“ Be all over it if you like, my dear chap; only 
do let us get on to the next scene.” 

“ Well, but you clearly understand that ” 

“Talk about women being unreasonable!” 
said Winnie; “ why, two women would have set- 
tled it long ago — wound up with a fit of tears 
or a fit of temper, if there was no other way.” 

“ Unluckily, we are debarred from that out- 
let.” 

“ Not the temper. You must miss the tears, 
I should think — I could not get on without them; 
I suppose you swear, though, and that does just 
as well, and does not give you red eyes. Oh 
dear! I can’t endure these squabbling creatures 
any longer. Major Morice! Major Morice! He 
is too excited to hear me: give me that little 
chair, please.” 


THAT THOU ART BLAMED. 


217 


She stood up and deliberately threw the chair 
over the box edge into the stalls below; the 
crash echoed through the small theatre. 

I only did it to call your attention, gentler 
methods having failed,” she explained, in the si- 
lence that followed. “Listen: it’s getting very 
late, and we none of us want to stay here any 
longer than we must. Please get on to the next 
scene, and you and the Baillie can have pistols 
and coffee after dinner.” 

She carried her point, and the rehearsal pro- 
ceeded. 

“Here’s a how-to-do!” said Winnie, when 
the released members of the company trooped 
away, and Cripps welcomed her reappearance 
tempestuously. “ Down, Cripps, down! I love 
you very much, and I’m delighted to see you 
again, but I don’t want proof impressions of own 
toes all down the front of my gown. Yes, we 
are going to walk home, but that is no reason 
why you ‘should go quite mad.” 

“ May I come too? ” said Gilmour. 

“ Yes, do; you have not described your moun- 
tain fastnesses — slownesses, I ought to say — yet. 
You have not said one word about the inevitable 
snows and sunsets. When I write a book on 
India, I won’t mention a snow or a sunset from 
the first page to the last; I’ll do all the requisite 
padding with pine-forests and dawns. Let’s go 
up on the Ridge and see if the snows are visible 
to-night.” 

“ Most lame and impotent conclusion.” 

15 


2i8 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“ Not at all. What’s the good of being a 
woman, if I mayn’t change my mind every other 
second? ” 

Cripps was their barking herald to the crest 
of the Ridge. The sunset glow had faded; the 
snows had died, and were lying in state, with 
stars for their corpse-candles. The chill white, 
gleaming through the twilight, was the coldest 
thing in all the world. Winnie made the sign 
of the cross. 

“ ‘Come away, for Life and Thought here no 
longer dwell,’ ” she said softly. 

“ There will be a resurrection at dawn,” said 
Gilmour. 

“ Ah, bless you for understanding! I walked 
here last night with my dear good Janet; all was 
as it is now, and while I stood wrapped in the 
wonder of it, she said, ‘ Isn’t it beautiful? It’s 
just like whipped white of egg, only grander! ’ ” 

“ And what did you say? ” 

“ I said, ‘ Let’s go home, dear.’ ” 

“ Will you say it now, if I give you the same 
provocation? ” 

“ Three words of it, if you like, even four, as 
you always insist on my saying ‘ let us ’ instead 
of ‘ let’s.’ I heard myself talking of ‘ Let us’s 
Diary ’ the other day.” 

“ Do you keep a diary? ” 

“ Only the dry bones of one — a mere record 
of fact. It is supposed to show a well-balanced 
mind; therefore my Aunt Agatha made me begin 
the practice when I was ten years old.” 


THAT THOU ART BLAMED. 


219 


It was the first time that she had mentioned 
the name of any relation, and he caught eagerly 
at the reference. 

Did you live with her? You have never told 
me one word about your childhood.” 

“ Does one generally talk of one’s child- 
hood? ” said Winnie, laughing. If it comes 
to that, I know nothing of yours.” 

“ I’m afraid it wouldn’t interest you, but I 
have often wondered if your parents were still 
living.” 

“ If they were, I should not be here. Cripps, 
drop that dirty bone this minute! Greedy dog! ” 

“ So ' Aunt Agatha ’ — I beg your pardon, but 
I do not know the lady’s name — brought you 
up?” 

“ She did, indeed; I owe her more than I can 
tell — everything, in fact.” Then, with one of 
those sudden changes of voice and manner which 
so frequently puzzled her acquaintances, she went 
on : “ Do you know, these absurd theatricals have 
demoralized me. I am actually thinking of giv- 
ing recitations in character, only I know Mrs. 
Bertie Vernon will insist on doing the same, and 
make the whole thing ridiculous.” 

The sound of Mrs. Bertie’s name always si- 
lehced Gilmour. 

Two rickshaws passed them. A tall man 
walked by the first one, and the occupant of the 
second bade Winnie “ Good-night ” in a fresh 
young voice. 

There go Mrs. Ivey and Nancy, with Sholto 


220 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


Adare in attendance as usual/’ said Winnie. 
“ Oh, wise young man! he is walking by the 
mother’s rickshaw. I suppose he is to be the 
favoured one, and in some ways I am glad, and 
in others I am not so sure.” 

'' He seems a nice young fellow, but a trifle 
thin-skinned. He has been a bit spoilt, I fancy.” 

‘‘ Very likely. He is the only son of his 
mother, and she is a widow.” 

“ So is my mother. I wonder if I have been 
spoilt, too.” 

“ Are you an only son? ” 

“Yes; I have one sister, younger than I 
am.” 

The dusk had gathered quickly; a veil of 
shade hung between their faces, and the pleasant 
evening twilight seemed to invite and encourage 
confidential speech. Gilmour followed a sudden 
impulse, and talked of his home and his mother, 
of far-away days, and of early ambitions; and 
Winnie said little, but when she spoke, it was in 
the low, gentle voice he loved best. 

They passed the turning to Deodar Cottage 
without noticing it. The rickshaw lamp was 
lighted behind them, and the pine-shadowed road 
before them was so dark that the white b6dy of 
Cripps, hurrying on in front, only showed now 
and again. 

“My heavens!” said Winnie suddenly and 
shrilly, looking at her wrist-watch by the rick- 
shaw light; “ are you aware that it is ten minutes 
to eight, and I am dining out at the other end 


THAT THOU ART BLAMED. 


221 


of Simla at a quarter past? Where are we? We 
seem to have gone half round Jakko. Observe 
the terrible results of being what Janet, when she 
was a little girl, used to call ‘ obejogrifal,’ mean- 
ing ‘autobiographical.’ Cripps! Cripps! come 
here. Oh, thanks; put him in anywhere near my 
feet. Fm sorry I can’t offer you a lift. Would 
you like to take the place of one of my jampdnies? 
There’s a generous offer! Good-night. Chello^ 
jampdnies ; jeldi, jeldi — as quick as you can!” 

Gilmour stood alone in the darkness with the 
words of a checked declaration trembling un- 
spoken on his lips. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


WHOSE FEET DO TREAD GREEN PATHS OF YOUTH 
AND LOVE.” 

“ The forest thinks, too, that the laughing spring, 

Who is his all in-all. 

Is nobody and naught compared with love ; 

And that he were to blame for growing green 
In spring, except love asked him to grow green. 

The forest thinks that tears would die away, 

If all had love, as ev’ry nest hath eggs, 

And ev’ry head of maize its feathery cap.” 

Roumanian Folk-song. 

Nancy was troubled. A new element, a dis- 
tracting excitement, had forced its way into her 
quiet life, and she longed for the peaceful days to 
return. She was nervous and restless, doubting 
her own thoughts and feelings — doubting 
the value of her decisions and the strength of her 
purposes. The loneliness which is an essential 
part of the atmosphere surrounding every human 
being was borne in upon her mind for the first 
time, and it was a desolating realization. There 
had never before been a trouble that her mother 
could not soothe away, and to know that the dear 
mother could not help her now was to feel the 
solid ground failing beneath her feet. Mrs. Ivey 
herself was in a state of tender distraction, fear- 


222 


WHOSE FEET DO TREAD. 


223 


ing to influence her child unduly, yet feeling that 
it might be her duty to do so for the sake of the 
girl’s ultimate happiness. 

It had been an unconfessed annoyance to her 
hitherto that pretty Nancy’s admirers were of an 
unsatisfactory description. There had been two 
— a young civilian, whose hardly-won learning 
had apparently left him no time to grow in either 
stature or grace, and an elderly major, who was 
prematurely confident that Nancy would be a 
kind and careful mother to his five orphaned 
children. But Sholto Adare, in appearance, man- 
ner, youth, devotion, and position, was the ideal 
lover — the lover of dreams. The mother’s heart 
rejoiced to think that her cherished child would 
be saved from India, and delivered from all the 
Indian trials and troubles that she herself had 
undergone. 

Nancy’s father was too busy administering 
justice and maintaining truth in a province that 
could have held half England, and asked for a 
few more counties, to be able to come to Simla, 
even to decide a daughter’s fate. The thought 
of losing Nancy was equally repulsive to him in 
whatever garb the wooer came, and in answer 
to his wife’s anxious letters, he would only say 
that the child was very young; she must do ex- 
actly as she wished, and be in no hurry to make 
up her mind. 

Make up her mind! Nancy wondered some- 
times if she possessed a mind, or only a bundle 
of indecisions. She wavered with the wind, as a 


224 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


ship saileth. It struck her as ridiculous that, all 
alone in her quiet room, with nothing to distract 
or agitate her, she should feel as vague and un- 
knowing as when Sholto surrounded her with an 
atmosphere of devout observance; but thus it 
was. She wondered how she ought to feel. She 
was lost on a sea of wild conjecture, only landing 
at long intervals on desert islands of puzzled mis- 
conception. Books and good counsel advised her 
to follow the dictates of her own heart, and her 
heart dictated nothing but miserable hesitation 
and postponement. Sholto was behaving irre- 
proachably, which seemed to make her own con- 
duct more culpable. She had an uneasy fear, too, 
that every day of indecision tacitly pledged her 
to him, and though he was indignant at the 
whisper of this, and her mother gently put the 
question by, Mrs. Alehin rushed in trumpet- 
tongued. Sholto having rashly confided in her, 
she betrayed his confidence far and wide, and did 
her busy best to precipitate matters. 

Thanks to her efforts chiefly, Nancy began to 
feel that it was incumbent upon her to yield 
sooner or later, and that she was something of a 
criminal and a good deal more of a goose not to 
perform this action gracefully and immediately. 
But the whole strength of her sheltered maiden- 
hood held her back. The white light of her young 
innocence fell on glowing reflections from a pas- 
sion beyond her knowledge. Her eyes were 
dazed, and her thoughts troubled. They were in- 
articulate thoughts, too; she could not phrase 


WHOSE FEET DO TREAD. 


225 


them even to herself. Solitude and the surround- 
ings meet for deliberation were her chief desires, 
though thus far they had brought her neither 
comfort nor counsel. She had not the habit of 
deciding for herself, and that the first decision 
she was called upon to make should absolutely 
fix the fate of her own life and another’s filled 
her with a well-justified terror. 

She was not habitually an early riser, but in 
these troubled times she lost the sound child- 
sleeping which had made soft her pillow for nine- 
teen years. One morning, three weeks after the 
eventful picnic, she woke early with an urgent 
need for fresh air and the wide world upon her. 
She had promised to ride with Adare that after- 
noon, so she would not take out the pampered 
Brownie; but the sunshine was beautiful among 
the pine-trees, and soon after seven she was 
breathing their morning incense on the shadowed 
road of Observatory Hill. Her hair was pinned 
in an uneven lump under her shady hat. She had 
hastily put on the first serge skirt and white 
blouse that came to hand, but neither careless 
dress nor grave expression could disfigure her 
fair young face. 

She walked quickly, not noticing the beauti- 
ful green layers of shade above and around her, 
only conscious of the great responsibility that 
clung so closely to her side and whispered her so 
near. She felt that she could not go on as she 
was doing — the state of affairs needed ending; 
yet she was no more certain of herself than she 


226 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


had been on the day when he had first spoken. 
At least, she thought, now as then, that she did 
not care for him, but that was an answer he 
would not accept. He did not call it a definite 
answer; he only asked for time to make her love 
him. It surprised her that he was not too proud 
to risk a second refusal, but he told her he had 
no pride where the whole happiness of his life 
was concerned. The whole happiness of his life! 
And six weeks before he had not even heard of 
her existence. 

It was terrible to be a girl, to have the shap- 
ing of two lives put into her hands, yet with 
nothing to show her how to use her power. She 
supposed that if she loved him she would know 
what to do. Girls in books always knew in a 
minute, and were not tormented with doubts, but 
Nancy did not think such happy certainty possi- 
ble in the real world. 

Her mother would like her to marry him, and 
surely the dear and wise mother knew best. Per- 
haps she was not capable of romantic love — all 
girls were not; and her mother had said that the 
best and most lasting love often came after mar- 
riage. But how could she tell that it was only 
possible to her to feel in this humdrum fashion? 

' And she had been so certain that vacillation 
was almost a crime. She had despised girls who 
'' played with men,” and asked time to decide. 
The matter was perfectly simple; they either 
loved them or they did not. It was plain black 
or white. But she found now that nothing was 


WHOSE FEET DO TREAD. 


227 


black or white; but shaded in many different 
tones of gray. Mrs. Alehin had told her in so 
many words that she was “ playing with poor 
Sholto.” Nancy frowned at the memory, and 
each day that she delayed, because she was try- 
ing to do what was right and best for them both, 
counted as an additional reason why she should 
not throw him over ” in the end. It seemed 
impossible for grown-up women to escape a taint 
of vulgarity when they discussed those serious 
complications of feeling they called ‘‘ love af- 
fairs”; they were generally odiously facetious. 

Sholto Adare really understood her better at 
this crisis than anyone else, only he failed to 
realize how cruelly unfair her acceptance of him 
in her present mood of mind would be. He 
begged her to trust him to change her liking into 
love; he never seemed to doubt that he could do 
it. Men appeared to have a peculiar gift of happy 
self-confidence on that point. She remembered 
that the far-away Major, the refusal of whose 
square hand had not cost her a doubting moment, 
had used exactly the same words. 

She walked very quickly, looking at the 
ground with unseeing eyes, endeavouring to be 
reasonable and to phrase and consider unformu- 
lated thoughts and feelings. They soon narrowed 
themselves to one regret. If only she had never 
met him! She had been so happy for the last 
three years, the first years she had spent in her 
own home with her father and mother. She did 
not want to think of the future; the present had 


228 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


been perfect and complete before he came. True, 
there had been vague fancies and imaginings — a 
dream that she blushed to remember; but that 
was an outgrown folly, and counted as nothing. 

She had light-heartedly supposed that she 
should marry some day — most girls did; but she 
had bestowed little more thought upon it than 
upon the prospect of death. She assured herself 
now that it was highly probable that she would 
never care for anyone, and when she was quite 
old, five or six and twenty, she should make a 
marriage of reason, and be miserable all the rest 
of her life. It was a dreary thought. Sholto 
seemed good and kind and nice; he was young, 
and in some ways sympathetic; and she knew 
that she should appreciate the big house in the 
country, and the little one in* London, and all 
the pleasures and advantages his money could 
give her. He frankly dwelt on these as a setting 
to the jewel, the jewel being himself. 

If she was to be doomed to a marriage of rea- 
son, it might not be a hard fate to make him 
happy; surely she should find her own happiness 
in thinking always of someone else, never of her- 
self — that was how a good woman ought to live. 
But was she likely to make him happy under 
these circumstances? Presumably he knew best 
what he wanted; but her honest soul shrank from 
the meanness of taking the best love of his heart 
and giving him a little lukewarm liking in ex- 
change. Perhaps even this liking would not last 
during an engagement, for, in spite of studied 


WHOSE FEET DO TREAD. 


229 


self-restraint, he sometimes frightened her, and 
made her feel uncomfortable. She was much 
more ready to contemplate the possibility of 
marrying him when her mother spoke of it, than 
when he himself was the speaker. Something in 
his voice, and a strange hungry look he had, made 
her feel nervous, and as though she did not be- 
long to herself. She always sprang unaided from 
Brownie’s back after a ride with him; she shook 
hands with him as seldom as possible, and at 
moments would have promised anything only to 
escape and be alone. Suppose, instead of Sholto 
Adare, it had been Noel; but she was thinking 
of a man who wanted to marry her, not of one 
who cared nothing for her, and she gave her 
head a little backward shake to chase away the 
intruding thought. It was detestable to think 
constantly of love and marriage, and it made her 
feel vain and self-conscious; but yet it was a seri- 
ous matter that needs must be considered and 
faced. 

She had never imagined that anyone could 
care for her as he did; it seemed cruel to waste 
such love, and she need never hope, she told her- 
self in all humility, to gain it from another. Oh, 
if she could only tell what she ought to do! If 
he would go quite away and not try to see her, 
and not expect her to write to him for some time, 
she would not mind being engaged to him. 

“ Good-morning! I did not think you ever 
went out so early.” 

Nancy raised her eyes, and started. 


230 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“ I did not see you coming, Captain Curtis.’’ 

“ You were in a brown study, and never once 
looked up.” 

Her first thought was excessive thankfulness 
that he was not Adare; her second, regret that 
he was himself, for certain memories of him were 
too much mingled with her dearest and most se- 
cret thoughts. 

He turned and walked with her. 

“ You are a long way from home; you must 
have started very early? -’ 

‘‘ I am a quick walker,” she said, realizing at 
the same moment how far she had gone, and how 
tired she was. 

“ You are a very pale one, at any rate. Look, 
that bench is quite dry; do rest for a few min- 
utes! ” 

The bench stood in a nook of the road, and 
was half hidden by bushes that had sprouted high 
during the rains. Nancy leant back and looked 
away and away across the hills, watching a fleecy 
cloud that sailed to wreck in a green shadowed 
valley, and Curtis looked at her, and there was a 
gentle silence. 

“ I wonder how long it is since I have seen 
you alone,” he said suddenly. 

“You did not come to the last dance,” she 
said. 

“ Oh, good! you noticed that I wasn’t there? 
No; I hadn’t the heart to go.” 

“ It was a pretty dance, and not too 
crowded.” 


WHOSE FEET DO TREAD. 


231 

“ I heard a piece of news in the afternoon, 
and that was my reason for staying away.” 

“ No bad news, I hope? ” and Nancy’s gray 
eyes came quickly back from five miles over the 
hills to glance at his grave face. 

“Yes; the worst in the whole world to me, 
and then it was contradicted the next day. Will 
you tell me the truth about it now? ” 

“I? Do I know it?” How she hoped she 
was not visibly blushing! 

“Yes; indeed you do. Is it really true that 
you are engaged to Adare? ” 

The rush of colour that flooded her cheek and 
neck was even swifter than her prompt denial, 
and he misunderstood. 

“ Only thinking of it? I suppose you will be 
soon? ” he said, almost roughly. 

Nancy felt that dignity demanded her imme- 
diate departure, but the pine shadow was cool 
and sweet, and some soft power seemed to hold 
her from moving. 

“ Won’t you tell me? ” he asked gently, after 
a moment. 

His gray sun-helmet lay on the bench beside 
him, and she could see that his eyes were more 
earnest than his voice. 

“ I don’t think it is a thing to talk about.” 

“ I do, seeing that everything depends upon 
it for me.” 

There was a silence, and though her heart 
was beating as tumultuously as it had done in 
the Glen, she had no impulse of flight. She 


232 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS, 


looked Steadily at the little cloud, which had gone 
to pieces and was scattered in cotton-wool-like 
flecks on the hillside, and tried to count its frag- 
ments to convince herself that she was perfectly 
calm. 

“ It’s not my fault that I’ve been silent all 
this time,” he said, leaning forward; “ I’m not a 
lucky fellow like Adare, with any amount of 
money of his own; I was obliged to look on 
gagged while he could speak. May I speak now? 
you won’t be angry? ” 

“ I don’t know what you want to say,” mur- 
mured Nancy, in the direction of the cloud. 

“ That’s because I’ve been put into this false 
position. Oh, Nancy! don’t you know that I’ve 
loved you ever since last year? I fought against 
it all the winter, because I knew I was very hard 
up, and even supposing you managed to care for 
me, it would be a beastly life for you.” 

She was silent; there was nothing for her 
to answer at the moment, and she wanted to 
laugh a little, though she felt it would be un- 
seemly. 

“ I thought I’d taught myself not to care, but 
the first glimpse of you at the beginning of the 
season knocked that on the head, and I knew I 
loved you more than ever, and always should.” 

Why, often you seemed as if you did not 
want to speak to me.” 

Oh, if you had only known how hard it was 
to keep away! But what had I got to offer you 
except a few debts and some polo ponies? But 


WHOSE FEET DO TREAD. 


233 

do you remember the day I met you on Jakko, 
just after your hat had blown off.” 

“Yes; why?” 

“ Because that very evening I wrote a long 
letter to my father, and told him all about you, 
and how I was thoroughly in earnest, and asked 
if he could manage to start me fair on a larger 
allowance, if I could get you to marry me. He is 
an awfully good old sort.” 

Bald words. But his voice was tender, his 
sunburnt young face aglow, and she found his 
simple sentences better than all the poems that 
ever were sung or said. 

“ The old man made some difficulties — mar- 
riage was a very serious thing, and so on; but I 
kept on writing to him — he’s never had so many 
letters from me before, he says — and I made up 
my mind to have everything cut and dried be- 
fore I said a word to you. It’s been most awfully 
difficult, but I’ve seen some of the mistakes that 
come when things are not quite settled, and I 
did not mean to let you in for that.” 

He could only see the line of an averted pink 
cheek and the mass of her fair hair, but the hand 
he took was not drawn away. 

“ And then this damned fellow Oh, I 

beg your pardon; I never meant to say that, it 
slipped out. Then Adare came, and made all 
the running with his poems and his places at 
home; I’ve been half mad at times. You don’t 
really care for him, do you, darling? ” 

“ I think he’s very kind and nice.” 

16 


234 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“ Oh yes; it’s so good of him to be kind to 
you. Do tell me quickly, Nancy: isn’t there any 
chance for me? ” 

“ I don’t care for him in that way,” said 
Nancy, wondering why her hand was so content 
to be held. 

“Oh, it’s good to hear that; and the mail 
came in last night, and the old man wrote awfully 
nicely. VVe shouldn’t be really hard up, only have 
to be a little careful for a bit. Do you think you 
could stand it? ” 

“ I wonder when you first began to think of 
this? ” she said slowly. 

“ The first minute I saw you — May last year, 
it was. Darling, I feel a regular sweep; that 
other fellow could give you diamonds and every- 
thing in the world you could want, and I’ve got 
so little, from the money point of view. But I 
vow he doesn’t love you as I do. Don’t you 
think you could get to care for me a little? ” 

“ It is so difficult to be quite sure,” she said, 
delaying her surrender for a little minute, and 
looking with a great effort of courage into his 
anxious eyes. 

“ Is it? Well, so long as you don’t tell me to 
go away ” — his voice was changing from entreaty 
to triumph. “ How can we be quite sure, I 
wonder? ” 

She did not shrink from the arm that held 
her, and the cheek he kissed only crimsoned with- 
out moving. 

“ Are you very angry, darling? ” he said. 


WHOSE FEET DO TREAD. 


235 


No,” said Nancy. 

She had become suddenly aware that life was 
a perfectly simple and very happy thing. The 
tragic suggestions of self-sacrifice had melted 
away like the little distant cloud on the hillside. 
It had always been Noel; it never could have 
been anyone but Noel. Her doubts, fears, and 
uncertainties had all been spent on poor Sholto’s 
wooing, and light-hearted happiness alone re- 
mained. The full realization of her feelings for 
Noel showed her how little she could ever have 
felt for Sholto. 

A little brown bird whistled with .shrill sweet- 
ness overhead, and the sun sent down a golden 
ray to them through the shadow of the pines. 
Sholto, under similar circumstances, would have 
likened the straight stems to the columns of 
Love’s Temple, and observed that the out- 
stretched branches suggested benediction. The 
lovers were, perhaps, hardly worthy of their sur- 
roundings, for they were simply and unappreci- 
atively happy. They were both young for their 
years, and the reaction from the state of strained 
feeling they had recently passed through took the 
form of a very babble of talk and laughter, foam 
and spray from a deep river. 

Oh, do you know,” said Nancy suddenly — 
“isn’t it absurd? — I used to say that, if I ever 
married, I should like him ” 

“ Me, you mean.” 

“No, I don’t; it was long before I met you. 
I should like him to propose to me at eight 


236 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


o’clock in the morning, for then I should think 
he really meant it.” 

“ Twenty to nine now,” said Curtis, looking 
at his watch. “ I think I was well up to time.” 

“ Oh, is it so late? I must go home at once; 
mother will think I’m lost.” 

“ Tell her that she is going to lose you pres- 
ently instead. Are you still tired, little girl? If 
you don’t mind waiting. I’ll run on and tell them 
to bring your rickshaw.” 

“ No, indeed; I’m not a bit tired now.” 

‘‘ Well, you’ve got your colour back. Must 
we really go? Bless this little bench; I must get 
a photograph of it. Don’t be in such a hurry, 
Nancy.” 

“ We shall be so late.” 

“ Nothing to speak of. You’ll walk much 
better if you take my arm.” 

Oh, I can’t; it would look so absurd.” 

“ Who’s to see? Does that look better? ” 

“Let me go, Noel; someone’s coming.” 

“ So there is — a brown child, fully two feet 
high, and looking awfully shocked. I would ask 
him if he saw us — only I’ve forgotten the Hindu- 
stani for ‘ kiss.’ ” 

“ I’m going home; I don’t care what you 
do.” 

“ There! I’ve bribed him to secrecy with eight 
annas. Oh, darling, I just feel off my head. It 
seems too good to be true, and I have been so 
wretched.” 

“ I think it was worse for me, though,” said 


WHOSE FEET DO TREAD. 


237 

Nancy; for if I found myself remembering you 
or thinking about you, I felt I mustn’t do it.” 

Good Lord! And is that why you used to 
be so stiff? ” 

“ I wasn’t, only I thought you avoided me.” 

“ I had to, until the letter business was set- 
tled. I’ll write to your father to-day. I wonder 
if he’ll cut up rough. We shall have £150 a year 
certain besides my pay, Nancy, and I’m pretty 
sure the Chief will do something for us.” 

And I thought once that you were in love 
with Mrs. Edwards,” went on Nancy, who had 
no consideration to spare for money matters. 

“ Oh, you little darling idiot! Mayn’t I come 
in and speak to your mother now? ” 

“No, please not; I should like to tell her 
first.” 

“ Just as you like. Well, I shall come over 
directly after lunch; I shall be busy all the morn- 
ing, worse luck! ” 

“ Oh, Noel, I forgot. I promised to ride with 
Mr. Adare this afternoon.” 

“ You did, did you? Then, suppose you write 
and tell him that you are engaged — absolutely 
engaged.” 

“ It won’t be an easy letter to write.” 

“ Put it plainly; don’t leave the poor devil a 
loophole of suspense or hope. Look here, dar- 
ling: why didn’t you give him his answer at once? 
You’d have saved him a lot of pain, and me too.” 

“ But, Noel, I did, and he wouldn’t take that 


answer. 


238 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“Well, he’s got to take it now. You won’t 
really let me come in? I suppose you know best. 
Now, there’s nobody coming, so say ‘ Good-bye ’ 
properly. Oh, Nancy, you don’t know how happy 
you’ve made me! ” 

When she ran indoors a moment later, she 
had very bright cheeks and eyes, and she told her 
tale in a hurried rush of words that her mother 
found hard to understand. It was a disappoint- 
ment to Mrs. Ivey, but her life, like that of many 
another good woman, was reckoned by its dis- 
appointments, and she had learnt how to deal 
with them. Moreover, Nancy’s radiant face was 
a weighty argument in favour of Curtis, and she 
had always liked him; he had the merit of being 
far more usual than Sholto Adare. 

Before she sat down to write to her husband, 
she succeeded in convincing herself that they 
had much reason to be thankful for Nancy’s 
choice. 

The end of her letter ran thus: 

“ Nancy is writing to Mr. Adare now, to give 
him his coup de grdce — she has torn up four 
sheets already — and her face is the prettiest, ten- 
derest mixture of happiness and sorrow — the one 
for herself, the other for him. 

“ Of course, the dear, tiresome child has 
chosen the poorer man, so far as money goes; 
but I think you will feel with me that this mar- 
riage will leave her more our daughter — I mean, 
we shall still be able to give her pleasure in vari- 


WHOSE FEET DO TREAD. 


239 


ous little ways that would be impossible if she 
became a rich woman. Had she cared for Sholto 
Adare, I suppose I should not have thought of 
this, but fancy fearing, when she came to see us 
in the cottage we hope to retire to, that things 
might not be as she was accustomed to have 
them!” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

‘‘ o life! how dear hast thou become!” 

“ In the tender flush 
That made her face like roses blown, 

And in the silence and the hush, 

Her thoughts were shown.” 

Jean Ingelow. 

‘‘ Winnie dear, Mrs. Tykes wants me to go to 
the hospital with her this morning. Do you 
mind? ” 

“ It’s much too good of you to go; but, apart 
from that, how could I mind? And for once I 
have no shopping to burden you with. Shall 
you take Cripps? ” 

“ Well, I’d rather not. Mrs. Tykes dislikes 
him.” 

“Wicked woman! I always knew she was a 
serpent heart hid by a lowering face. Never 
mind, Cripps; stay at home with the lady that 
loves you, and own Nugent shall take you out 
later.” 

“ I’ll send an excuse in a minute if you want 
me to play accompaniments or do anything,” 
said Janet. 

“ Nonsense, dear! I mean to have a real 


240 


O LIFE! 


241 


worry at scales and exercises, and you know I 
never like doing that unless I am alone in the 
house. Joy go with you. Don’t bring scarlet 
fever home to lunch, and please have my Not-at- 
home box hung on the tree 4s you pass.” 

“ Cripps,” she said presently, “ we have prac- 
tised for one whole hour, and you have endured 
it with unusual fortitude. Come here and talk to 
me.” 

Cripps rose obediently, and laid a sympathetic 
head and two firm furry feet on her knee. 

“We are no happier for it, Cripps; ‘thou 
wouldst not think how ill all’s here about my 
heart.’ Oh, my Cripps, it’s well to be you, with 
nothing on your mind but monkeys, and a bath 
twice a week.” 

Cripps interpreted her sad voice as an invita- 
tion, and leapt upon her knee, turned round 
swiftly three times, settling himself with a little 
sigh of content. 

“ Mannerless one, I never asked you to jump 
up, and I’m not dead leaves in the primeval for- 
est that you should try and knead me into some- 
thing softer. But since you are here, keep awake, 
and talk to me. What would you do if someone 
was longing to tell you something that you were 
dying to hear, and yet your own folly had made 
it impossible for you to listen? I’m very wretch- 
ed, Cripps.” 

The bearer brought in Mrs. Myles’ card, and 
on it was written: “ Can you see me for a few 
minutes? ” 


242 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


Give a salaam,” said Winnie aloud. Then 
to herself: “ Heaven grant that there are to be 
no more confidences this morning! A little touch 
of someone else’s woe would set mine over-brim- 
ming.” 

“ Forgive me for pushing past your box,” said 
Lilian, as she came in. “ I wanted so much to 
see you.” 

“ It was never meant to exclude you, only 
Mrs. Bertie Vernon and her like.” 

“ But I am sure you were busy. Please go on 
with whatever you were doing.” 

“ Indeed I wasn’t! I had just finished what 
Nugent politely calls ‘ your very simple songs, 
’m,’ meaning scales and exercises. And what’s 
the news with you? ” 

“ I have been nowhere, as usual,” said Lilian, 
shaking hands repeatedly with Cripps. 

She was one of his favourites, and he stood 
offering her alternate paws in quick succession. 

“ I did not see you at the last Viceregal 
dance,” said Winnie. 

We were not there.” 

“ Or at the Snowdon cotillon.” 

“ We were not there.” 

“ Did you go to the club dance? ” 

'' No, my dear.” , 

“ Or to the Monday Pop, or the Barnes 
Court ‘ at home,’ or to a heap of other things? 
Lazy is no word for you. Cripps, it is not usual 
to shake hands with a lady more than sixteen 
times. Down, sir! ” 


O LIFE! 


243 

No, I like him. Did you go to all these di- 
versions? ’’ 

“ Every single one. ‘ And some of them were 
dull, and some were not,' " sang Winnie, to the 
tune of a barrack-room ballad. 

Then, it's no wonder that you look so tired." 

“ I feel it a little, but I'm not like Mrs. Al- 
ehin, who says that she was born tired, and has 
never had time to rest since. The rains and ‘ Les 
Cloches ' combined are enough to weary any- 
one." 

There was a silence. Cripps stretched him- 
self in the centre of the room, with a loud long 
yawn that reached from ear to ear. 

Rudesby, begone! I have told him for 
months to put up his paw when he yawns, and 
he quite understands, only he won't. Cripps, 
come and say your nursery rhyme, and I’ll give 
you a chocolate. Here it is; sit up." 

Cripps sat up with gleaming eyes, and Win- 
nie rapidly recited: “ ‘The dame made a curtsy, 
the dog made a ' " 

Cripps flung his paws above his head. 

“ That’s a bow," explained Winnie. “ Now, 
gently: ‘The dame said, “Your servant,” the 
dog ' " 

“ Bow wow! " broke in Cripps, one word too 
soon. 

“ Take your chocolate, then. But you have 
no ear for metre." 

“ That is a pretty trick. You must have 
needed patience to teach it. Do you give Daisy 


244 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


her lessons yourself when she is with you? ’’ asked 
Lilian. 

“ Do you think little ones ought to do les- 
sons? ” said Winnie quickly. “They say nowa- 
days that a child should be a mere healthy little 
animal, with its mind lying fallow, till it is seven 
years old.” 

“ That sounds nice; but if the child -does not 
learn obedience and the habit of application be- 
fore that age, it must have some stormy years 
before it.” 

“ I wonder why she wanted to see me, if she 
talks only of things that don’t matter,” thought 
Winnie, in the little silence that followed. 

Lilian was looking pale, and there were dark 
shadows under her dark eyes. Her dress was 
black — a sombre serge that almost suggested 
mourning — but she had red roses in her hat. 

“ Do you remember that day in June when 
you were so good to me? ” she said suddenly, in 
the tone that betrays premeditated words; “ I 
lay on that sofa and talked nonsense, and stormed 
and cried. You don’t know how grateful I’ve 
been to you for never referring to it.” 

“ I am glad you don’t mind referring to it 
now; it shows the sting has gone,” said Winnie 
gently. 

“ Yes, it has, and I want to apologize, and 
tell you how ashamed I felt afterwards. It’s so 
much easier to confess other people’s faults than 
one’s own; but, dear Mrs. Edwards, I have been 
very foolish! ” 


O LIFE! 


245 


Have you, dear — how? ” 

In my behaviour generally; I insisted on 
being so tragic. I see it now, looking back, and 
life is so much easier if one laughs at it a little.” 

“ It is well for us when we can laugh, cer- 
tainly.” 

“ I was a hysterical wretch that day. Do you 
remember — I am afraid you must — how I ac- 
cused poor Gilbert of being cruel and cold- 
hearted, and all sorts of things? You should 
have scolded me instead of sympathizing with 
me.” 

‘‘ But you were very unhappy. I thought you 
were mountaineering on molehills a little, I own; 
but it made you honestly wretched.” 

“ Indeed it did! And all the time he was just 
as unhappy and just as misunderstanding as I 
was.” 

“ I wonder what began the tangle, then — 
can you guess? ” 

Tangles begin so easily,” said Lilian, and 
Winnie was struck by a gentle, far-away look in 
her eyes that she had never noticed before. “ I’m 
afraid I was very much to blame. I could npt 
make allowances for anyone except myself, and I 
remembered much too clearly and bitterly, until 
at times it seemed my duty to be disagreeable.” 

“ It’s the greatest pity in the world when a 
woman really grows hard and embittered,” said 
Winnie; “a disagreeable man is as nothing in 
comparison; because one is much more used to 
them, I suppose, and also because ‘ lilies that 


246 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


fester smell far worse than weeds.’ Do you kfiow 
that you are sadly pale, in spite of your brighter 
mood of mind? ” 

“ Am I? I don’t feel pale.” She looked across 
the room at the copper-framed portrait, with a 
smile on her lips and in her eyes. “ You must 
have some photos of your little girl when she was 
a baby; do show them to me.” 

“ I really don’t possess one; you know I am 
not fond of photographs,” said Winnie hastily. 
“ Since you have told me so much, I wonder if 
you would mind telling me what brought about 
this happy change for you? ” 

“ I have been shopping,” said Lilian, looking 
down, and speaking with seeming irrelevance — 
“ such dear, silly shopping! Very fine cambric 
and the softest white flannel, and ridiculous tiny 
lace edgings.” 

“ My dear? ” 

‘^Yes, it’s true; and, oh! you can’t guess 
how glad I am.” 

Winnie kissed her silently; it was the first 
caress that had ever passed between them. 

“ Of course, most of the things are coming 
out from home; but I mean to make some myself 
for the pure pleasure of it, though I’m not a 
clever needle-woman. Gertie Malet has lent me 
wonderful little patterns; the length of a baby’s 
waist is enough to bring tears to one’s eyes.” 
She measured a fraction off one finger, and 
laughed softly. “ I have a whole new world of 
thoughts and hopes and feelings now, and I am 


O LIFE! 


247 

disciplining myself: no more bad temper or 
wicked thoughts can be allowed.” 

“ I rejoice for you with all my heart,” said 
Winnie. I suppose your winter plans are al- 
tered now? ” 

'‘Yes; I shall stay up here instead of going 
into camp; I love the cold, and Gilbert will be 
able to get leave in March — for a few days, at 
any rate.” 

" But shan’t you feel lonely? ” 

" Oh no; lots of people stay up here for the 
winter, and Mrs. Tykes means to move into that 
little house next to ours.” 

“ Are you looking forward to having her 
as a neighbour? Well, you are indeed con- 
tented! ” 

“ She is very kind if one needs taking care of 
in any way; I must go and see her soon. I have 
avoided her lately, for I have told no one except 
Gertie, and now you. They say one is generally 
depressed at first ; I was before I knew, but since 
it has been all gladness. Was it like that with 
you?” 

Winnie stooped over the sleeping Cripps. 

“ It seems so long ago, I hardly remember 
anything,” she said. 

" How strange! I should have thought one’s 
feelings then were too vivid ever to be forgotten.” 

" Perhaps I am a forgetting woman.” 

" I should not think you were. Do you know, 
sometimes when I am half asleep, I wonder if I 
have only dreamt of the happiness that is coming 


248 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


to me, and then it is so beautiful to wake and 
find it is all true.’’ 

“ Yes,” said Winnie, with a little sigh; “ I am 
so glad you feel like that. I hope you mean to 
stay and have lunch with me? ” 

“ I mustn’t — thanks, dear; I am on my way 
to see Gertie. I am much fonder of her than I 
used to be, and I love playing with her babies 
now.” She stood up and looked out of the win- 
dow as she said, “ Can you imagine what a wretch 
I felt when I found that Gilbert did care? He 
had wanted it as much as I did, only would not 
hurt me by showing that he did. You "will for- 
get all that I said before, won’t you? I am so 
ashamed of it.” 

“Don’t spend another thought on it; it’s 
over and gone. Must you really go, already? 
Good-bye, then; it was sweet of you to come 
and tell me this.” 

“ I wonder how long her happiness will last? ” 
thought Winnie, as she stood in the veranda 
watching Cripps frantically digging in pursuit of 
an imaginary rat, his hind-legs forming a wide 
Gothic arch, through which he rapidly flung paw- 
fuls of earth. “ She is happy now, and that is the 
great thing; long may she remain so! She has 
no thought of fear of disillusionment, and per- 
haps the best way to keep that shadow aloof is 
not to imagine the possibility of its coming. She 
has better things to think of, though. A woman 
must feel a member of a great community, one of 
a holy army, as she makes the soft, tiny clothes. 


O LIFE! 


249 


and bears pain and weariness for the sake of the 
little new soul. And the life that waits for that 
little new soul is probably ” 

“ Oh, Mrs. Edwards! Then, you are not out, 
after all? Please be at home.” 

Nancy Ivey spoke. She was riding down the 
hill, wearing an ordinary dress, being one of the 
few girls who could ride gracefully in such a garb. 

“ Come in, of course, dear; you are welcome 
as flowers in May.” 

I was so disappointed to see your box, and I 
came down to leave a note,” said Nancy, dis- 
mounting and tying up her pony. “ The sjyce is 
miles behind; I cantered the whole way.” 

“ So I see — ^ red as a rose is she.’ And what 
have you been doing? ” 

Nothing,” said Nancy, suddenly much oc- 
cupied with Cripps, who, serenely unconscious of 
a very muddy nose, was begging her to accept 
the assurance of his distinguished consideration; 
only, have you seen Mrs. Alehin lately? ” 

“ No, not for more than a week, strange to 
say.” 

“ Oh, I am so glad! I wanted to be the first 
to tell you.” 

“ To tell me what, Nancy child? ” 

That it has all come right, and Pm en- 
gaged.” 

“ You are going to marry Mr. Adare? Many 
congratulations, dear! I have not met him often, 
but quite often enough to know how devoted he 
is to you.” 

17 


250 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


‘‘ Oh no; it’s not him,” cried poor Nancy, 
blushing crimson — “ it’s Noel.” 

Do you mean Noel Curtis? ” 

Yes, indeed I do.” 

‘‘ Then, I congratulate you with all my heart. 
He is one of the nicest young men I have ever 
met. But you are a real surprise-party. When 
was all this settled? ” 

“ It was only quite settled yesterday. I 
should have liked to tell you before — the very 
next day after he spoke to me — only mother said 
it must not be mentioned till we had heard from 
father. Mrs. Alehin found out, somehow — you 
know the way she always does find out about 
things, though I’m sure Mr. Adare did not tell 
her.” 

And what have you done with him? ” 

“ Oh, he was so nice about it; he went away 
at once.” 

“ Poor boy! — a last proof of devotion, and 
the hardest one to give of all. Was he very 
tragic? ” 

“ I don’t know; I didn’t see him again after 
I wrote to him. I never found a letter so hard 
to write before; it took nearly two hours, and 
yet it was quite a short one. I wanted mother 
to write it, and let me copy it, but she said it 
ought to be all my own doing.” 

“ Yes, I agree with her.” 

But it was so difficult, only Noel had told 
me that I ought to put it quite plainly; so I ( 
wrote that I knew, now that I should never care i 


O LIFE! 


251 


for him, because I had just found out that I loved 
Captain Curtis, and we were going to be mar- 
ried.” 

“ Well, that was certainly putting it plainly.” 

“ Yes, wasn’t it? Noel told me to. And then 
I said that it was so much better than if I had 
married him, and then found out that I didn’t 
care for him, for that would have been dreadful; 
and I hoped he would not feel angry with me, 
for I should always remember him, and be his 
friend. That was right, wasn’t it?” 

“ I believe girls generally say it, dear, though 
I’m not sure that the man is very grateful at the 
moment for a protestation of friendship. Did he 
answer your letter? ” 

“Yes; his answer was the funniest thing of 
all; it was a piece of poetry. Don’t you think 
that shows he could not have cared very much? ” 

“ Was the poetry original? ” 

“ I suppose so; this is it. It isn’t like a real 
letter, so I don’t feel as though I ought not to 
show it to you.” 

Sholto Adare’s farewell to the lady of his love 
ran thus: 


“ Then, dearest, since ’tis so, 

Since now at length my fate I know, 

Since nothing all my love avails. 

Since all my life seems meant for fails. 

My whole heart rises up to bless 
Your name in pride and thankfulness I 
Take back the hope you gave ; I claim 
Only a memory of the same. 

“ Sholto Adare.” 


252 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“ The sentiment is excellent, but it would 
have been a little more honest if he had signed 
it ‘Robert Browning’; and he has left out one 
line,” said Winnie, folding the thick paper, where 
the minute, fantastic writing showed as a care- 
fully-margined spider’s web. 

“ Oh, do you mean to say that he did not 
make it up himself? ” 

“ No, dear; he took it out of a poem called 
‘ The Last Ride together.’ ” 

Have you got that poem? I should so like 
to see it.” 

Winnie found it, and the girl considered it 
silently for some little time. 

“ I am glad he did not ask me to go for an- 
other ride with him,” she said at last; “for 
•though it would have seemed unkind not to, I am 
sure Noel would not have liked it.” 

She laid aside the Browning; her interest in 
his pages was over. 

“ I suppose not. You have not shown me 
your ring yet, Nancy.” 

“ Oh, how did you know? He only gave it 
to me this morning.” 

“ By the way that you have been pinching 
your finger through your glove to make sure that 
you have not lost your treasure.” 

The ring was a simple one — three very blue 
sapphires in a broad band of gold. 

“ Sapphires for truth,” said Winnie. 


O LIFE ! 


253 


“ ‘ The gold doth show her blessedness, 
The sapphires tell her true, 

For blessedness and truth in her 
Were livelily portrayed.’ ” 


More poetry. I think you ought to marry 
Mr. Adare/’ said Nancy, laughing. 

“ What a mercy that I don’t think so! And 
you are really happy? ” 

Nancy’s eyes made sufficient answer. 

Yes, I see,” went on Winnie. I always 
thought you a bright-looking girl, but now you 
are like a Japanese lantern after the candle is lit; 
before you were only the lantern by daylight.” 

“ It does feel so restful to be quite certain,” 
said Nancy, watching her sapphires. “ I’ve been 
wretched for three whole weeks, and life seemed 
solemn and dreadful; now it is all cheery again.” 

Then, you found Mr. Adare solemn? ” 
‘‘Yes, indeed; he was always so grave and 
gloomy, and took things so seriously. Noel and 
I are always laughing.” 

“ Does your mother like Captain Curtis? ” 

“ Oh yes, very much. I think she was a little 
sorry at first, because she would have liked me 
to be rich; but she has been so sweet about it, 
and so has father.” 

“ And what did Mrs. Alehin say? ” 

“ Oh, she has been so cross and horrid; and 
it is not as if she was even related to Mr. Adare! 
She told me that I had behaved disgracefully; 
and I got very angry — I couldn’t help it — and 
then she begged my pardon, and said I was only 


254 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


a dear little goose, after all. She calls Noel and 
me the ‘ two Ninnies,’ because both our names 
begin with an ' N but I don’t think that’s 
at all clever. Oh, goodness! is that half-past 
one?” 

“ It is. Do stay to lunch, dear.” 

“ I can’t, thank you. Noel is coming directly 
afterwards, and I must rush. Good-bye, dear 
Mrs. Edwards; I am so glad you are pleased.” 

Janet returned very late for lunch, and with 
her heart and head too full of the sights she had 
seen to apologize fittingly. 

“ Oh, Winnie, I wish you had .come! it was 
so interesting, and it would have been much bet- 
ter for you than sitting moping here alone.” 

The voice is the voice of Janet, but the 
words are the words of Mrs. Tykes! You know I 
never mope.” 

“ You don’t often; but weren’t you lonely? ” 

“Not in the least; I was very well enter- 
tained.” 

“ But if you had come you would have been 
taken out of yourself; it’s all so different, and so 
interesting — sad, of course, but very interesting. 
One felt as though one was really studying- hu- 
man nature.” 

“ Well, I preferred to study it from a comfort- 
able chair, and it was most obliging in presenting 
itself. Now, Janet, if you will kindly go upstairs 
and burn sulphur, or bathe in carbolic, or throw 
all your clothes out of window, or take any other 
simple precautions your conscientious nature may 


O LIFE! 


255 


suggest as suitable after visiting the accident 
ward of a hospital, we will have lunch — Cripps is 
white with famine already — and then I, the stay- 
at-home, will tell you a piece of news. Some- 
body’s engaged; no, I won’t tell you who; come 
back quickly and guess.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


MY LIFE, WHAT STRANGE, MAD GARMENTS HAST 
THOU ON? ” 

“ If I had chosen thee, thou shouldst have been 
A virgin proud, untamed, immaculate. 

Chaste as the morning star, a saint, a queen ; 

Lo ! thou are none of this, but only fair ; 

Yet must I love thee, dear, and as thou art.” 

Proteus. 

It’s a most efiective dress, ’m,” said Nu- 
gent; she coughed slightly — ‘‘really striking.” 

Winnie stood before her long mirror, ready 
for the fancy ball, a vivid, vulgar figure. 

Her short skirt was of black satin, made gar- 
ish with leaping tinsel flames; the fire-coloured 
bodice ornamented with demon silhouettes, and 
a black bat on each shoulder formed epaulettes 
and made pretence at sleeves. Bats’ wings of 
bkck suede, jewelled along their ribs with red 
and yellow stones, stood out behind her, empha- 
sizing the slenderness of her waist. Her hair 
was caught high on her head, and two pert jet 
horns jutted sharply from the burnished curls. 

“ I do think, ’m, that your diamonds would 
be more becoming than those little black spikes.” 

“ Nonsense! I have had to draw the line at 
256 


MY LIFE! 


257 

hoofs and a tail, but what is the good of a demon 
without horns and claws? 

Shall you wear no diamonds at all, 'm? '' 

“ Only the stars on my shoes; have you fas- 
tened them quite firmly? ” 

‘‘ Oh yes, ’m; but none of your bangles? ” 
Not one; lock them all up” 

Winnie’s black shoes had each a great flash- 
ing diamond star instead of bow or buckle; they 
glittered and winked as she advanced and re- 
treated before the mirror. 

“ May I come in, dear? ” asked Janet’s voice. 
Yes, I am nearly ready. How do you like 
my dress? Give me my pitchfork, Nugent; ” and 
Winnie struck an attitude with the long black 
trident; my gloves are black with long golden 
claws. By-the-by, please take them away, Nu- 
gent, and sew the buttons on very firmly. There, 
Janet, you can say what you like now that we are 
alone.” 

“ You are not really going out in that dress, 
Winnie? ” 

I am indeed.” 

What shall you call yourself? ” 

Diavolina, Satanita, . Lady Lucifer, the 
Princess of Darkness, which you like. Don’t 
you think the stars on my shoes are a good idea? 
They symbolize the headlong fall.” 

Oh, Winnie darling, I dislike it more than I 
can say! ” and Janet’s eyes were full of tears. 

“ You can’t dislike it more than I do,” said 
Winnie, throwing down her pitchfork; “ I hate 


258 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


it; I should like to tear it to pieces. It’s a horri- 
ble dress; the bodice begins too late, and the 
skirt ends too soon. It’s like an attempt at a 
French caricature, and I wear it as part of my 
penance.” 

“ I would so much rather stay at home. Do 
stay at home, dear.” 

“ I must go; I must carry out my original 
programme. I ordered this hateful dress before 
we came to India; it suited what I meant to be. 
It serves me right to have to wear it. I had no 
business to let myself be serious for an instant; 
if I allow anyone to think seriously of me for a 
moment, my silly freak becomes an unendurable 
dishonesty. Janet, you are not to make me cry. 
Don’t you see my face is done up, and done up 
even more than usual? ” 

I suppose you know best, dear; but, 
still ” 

“ You haven’t nearly enough rouge on to suit 
your powdered hair. Hold up your head, and I’ll 
put on some more. There! don’t you feel wicked? 
But I wish your dress wasn’t so sombre.” 

Janet was “ Frost at Midnight,” a high- 
sounding title devised by Winnie to suit a beauti- 
ful gown of black brocade, decked for this one 
ball with glittering draperies. Nugent had gained 
her way for once, and Janet’s abundant hair was 
a pile of stately curls, powdered and silvered. • 

“ You look delightful with your hair like that; 
you must be photographed, just as you are, as 
a Christmas card for Will. Fold up my wings. 


MY LIFE! 


259 


please, Nugent; there are two little springs. It’s 
time to go, dear, if you’re ready. Night-night, 
Cripps; go to own bed.” 

The cloak-room at the town-hall was very 
crowded. Winnie kept her long cloak round 
her as she worked her way to a looking-glass, 
where Nancy was arranging a cluster of moon- 
daisies in her kerchief. She wore a milkmaid 
gown of pink print and a white sun-bonnet ; stool 
and pail stood near. 

“ What are you doing, my pretty maid? ” said 
Winnie. 

“ Oh, Mrs. Edwards, I haven’t such a con- 
ceited name as that; I’m only Dolly, the milk- 
maid, out of your song.” 

“ I know, of course — the last verse: 

“ ‘ There’ll be a bride at Eastertide, 

And Dolly is her name.’ ” 

“ Oh, I had forgotten that verse,” protested 
Nancy — “ I had really.” 

“Very well, then; there is another one that 
suits you: 

“ ‘ My Dolly’s words are sweet as curds ; 

Her laugh is like a tune.’ ” 

“That’s just as bad; but mayn’t I see your 
dress? I know it’s something lovely.” 

“Indeed it isn’t; it’s only a little strange.” 
Winnie’s fingers fumbled at the fastenings of her 
cloak; then she flung it back with a sharp laugh. 
“There! and my wings unfasten with a little 
spring — so! ” 


26 o 


A. PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“ Oh, it’s very striking,” said Nancy slowly. 

“ That’s exactly what Nugent said, only she 
coughed; you merely imply the cough. Ready, 
Janet; come along.” 

Do look at Mrs. Edwards! I believe she 
calls herself the ' Devil,’ ” said Mrs. Layard to 
her husband. 

“ She’s modest, but it’s a smart sort of turn- 
out, all the same.” 

Oh, I hate those loud, flashy dresses; they 
are such bad form.” 

She herself was dressed as a hospital nurse, 
but with an amount of rouge that would have 
debarred her entrance into any respectable hos- 
pital. 

Winnie had more the appearance of an imp 
than a demon, for her short skirts made her look 
peculiarly small and slight, without giving her 
the dumpy, dwarfed aspect which is the usual 
reward of the grown woman when she dons such 
attire. She seemed to be in wild spirits, and her 
eyes shone brilliantly under the little black horns. 

“You audacious person!” said Mrs. Alehin. 
“ But I like it on you.” 

“I have one terror,” answered Winnie: “if 
anyone says to me, ‘ Cow with the crumpled horn, 
will you dance? ’ as was once said to a devil 
domino at a masked ball, I shall go home in de- 
spair. What are you? ” 

She had reason to ask, for Mrs. Alehin was 
in the garb of the “ Powder Period,” that elastic 


MY LIFE! 


261 


and much-maligned epoch which is so frequently 
represented by any old dress that can be worn 
with a white wig and pink roses. 

I am the Pompadour.” 

“ That’s rather audacious, too.” 

“ Never mind; Mrs. Bertie Vernon beats us 
both. Have you seen her yet? ” 

Prompt as rhyme, Mrs. Bertie Vernon passed 
them, with a Greek dress of the inevitable white 
and gold tightly girt about her hour-glass figure 
— a Grecian knot ” that was not Grecian — and 
very high-heeled shoes. 

“ I call her ‘ Ancient Greece,’ ” hissed the 
Pompadour through a smile. “ She says she is 
' Helen.’ ” 

“ ^ Helen’s cheek, but not her ’ — face.” 

Oh, you wretch! I wish I had said that.” 

You may all the rest of the evening if you 
like; I promise not to repeat it.” 

Satanita’s partner came for her, and she 
whirled away. 

Gilmour arrived a little late. He was wear- 
ing an Old Court ” dress and had had a diffi- 
culty with his wig. He had no reason to regret 
the delay, however, for his dances with Winnie 
had been arranged the week before. The earliest 
was No. 6, and he had reached the stage when 
other women were as shadows. 

''Seen the latest?” said Yeatt, who was 
standing in a doorway, looking plainer and 
more English than usual as a " Gentleman of 
France.” 


262 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“ Which? ” asked Gilmour, his eyes alert for 
one beloved face. 

She had refused to tell him what her dress was 
to be, and the brightly-coloured throng was be- 
wildering. 

‘‘ Satanita; rippin’ sort o’ dress, — what there 
is of it.” 

Winnie circled past a moment later. She was 
dancing with a Pierrot, whose baggy white rai- 
ment contrasted with her bizarre black figure in 
a most striking way. 

Gilmour’s first impulse was to throw a cloak 
round her, to take her away, to hide her out of 
sight; his second, and the one that he followed, 
was to turn away himself. 

“ Have you seen my partner anywhere? ” 
piped Mrs. Layard at his elbow. 

But he did not hear. The need was on him 
for night and silence, but when he tried to get 
out, he found the door surrounded by an atten- 
tive crowd of jampdnies and coolies, who gazed at 
him admiringly, and whose essences turned the 
live air sick. 

He plunged back, and found a quiet little 
veranda not yet invaded by sitters-out, where 
he could pace to and fro unnoticed, and reason 
with the impulse that had driven him away from 
sight of Winnie. 

The dress was, perhaps, not strikingly objec- 
tionable in itself — worn by another woman, he 
might have observed it with a passing smile — 
but it was vulgar; it was not what he had im- 


MY LIFE! 


263 


agined her likely to wear; it confirmed his least 
love-inspired thoughts of her. Foolish, vulgar, 
gaudy, well-nigh indelicate, if the apparel pro- 
claimed the woman, he had been a fool to think 
seriously of her, and it was a mistake he must not 
fall into again. He had dreamt of her and wor- 
shipped her as though she had been an angel, 
he told himself, with angry exaggeration, and she 
took the first opportunity of dressing as a devil, 
and parading about with wings and horns and 
short skirts. She might have called herself a 
hornet, and secured 'the same possibilities of dis- 
play. The name Satanita revolted him; it was 
like a cheap attempt to shock people. It was all 
over, ended as completely as though it had never 
been. He had longed to lay his heart at her feet, 
but he was not prepared to prostrate it before 
black silk legs, with an inadequate amount of skirt. 
He had deemed it a tender fantasy, a prettily 
sentimental thought of hers, always to dress in 
black or white or quiet tones of gray and violet ; 
now it seemed to accentuate the vulgar gaudiness 
of her flame-decked devil-dress. She had dis- 
carded a gentle memory of the dead for the sake 
of this flaring folly. What need to waste more 
thoughts on her? Henceforth his heart should 
be as marble to her, and his face should be 
as flint. He would be polite — absolutely polite; 
she should never guess how much she had 
shocked and disgusted him. He would be 
as courteous as was compatible with ignoring 
her almost utterly; she should never know 


264 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


the starry hope that had arisen only to be over- 
cast. 

Winnie, meanwhile, was surprised when the 
sixth dance began and he did not come. Could 
he be ill? She refused several would-be partners, 
and went to demand a share of the sofa where 
Mrs. Tykes sat in state. That lady appeared to 
have sprinkled a little flour on her head, as a 
tribute to the nature of the entertainment, but 
her long shouldered gown was unaltered. 

Well, what do you call yourself? ” 

“ Satanita,” said Winnie sweetly. 

“ I don’t like your dress at all. It looks 
flashy.” 

“ I don’t like it, either; but as I had it, I felt 
I really must wear it, for economy’s sake.” 

“ The truest economy would have been not to 
get it at all.” 

“So it would; but having got it, what else 
could I do with it? ” 

“ You might have given it away.” 

“But who would take it? Happy thought! 
would it suit your native Christian? ” 

“ You are very fond of talking nonsense, Mrs. 
Edwards; she has a natural rational figure.” 

“ You mean that she’s quite flat, with a 
twenty-eight inch waist; it wouldn’t be natural 
for me to be like that.” 

“ There I differ from you.” 

“ Yes, you do. Will you take a ticket in my 
raffle, Mrs. Tykes? ” 

“ You getting up a raffle! What next? ” 


MY LIFE! 


265 

“ Only fifty tickets at five rupees each; first 
prize, this dress; second, the pitchfork. The pro- 
ceeds to go towards getting me another fancy 
dress — one that you will like. What character 
should you recommend? ‘ White Cat? ’ ” 

White Goose ' would suit you better, I 
think,” said Mrs. Tykes, grimly chuckling. 

“ Oh no, that trenches on your province — the 
poultry-yard. I would have come as Mother 
Hubbard to-night, with Cripps for my dog, only 
I was afraid of being too original.” 

“You wouldn’t have been; there are two 
Mother Hubbards here to-night.” 

“ Not really? ” 

Winnie’s eyes wandered in search of a figure 
that did not come, and her spirits sank lower and 
lower. 

“ Janet looks quite pretty in powder; so dif- 
ferent from what she usually does,” said Mrs. 
Tykes. 

“ You must tell her that; she’ll be delighted.” 

“ Why aren’t you dancing? ” 

“ Surely I am employing my time far bet- 
ter. How many eggs did you find this morn- 
ing? ” 

“ Only seven, and that after giving the hens 
warm food twice a day. I am perfectly certain 
that the sweeper has a duplicate key and steals 
more than half.” 

“ I should try a protective measure, consist- 
ing of Colonel Tykes and a blunderbuss.” 

Yeatt strolled across the room. 

18 


266 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“Hullo, Mrs. Edwards! is the world cornin’ 
to an end? You sittin’ out! what next?” 

“ I was doing it for fun, only Mrs. Tykes 
has been rather unkind to me, and if you would 
like to take me to have a cup of coffee you 
may.” 

“ Oh, you’re a humbug! ” said Mrs. Tykes. 

“ Now you are going on being unkind, but 
I’ll forgive you if you will take care of my pitch- 
fork. Please hold it for me; I’m very tired of 
it,” said Winnie, trying to thrust it into the re- 
luctant hand of Mrs. Tykes. 

“No, certainly not; take the nasty thing 
away.” 

Winnie left it in a corner, and went off laugh- 
ing. 

“ I say, you ought to let ’em down gently, 
you know. You’ve given good old Gihnour fits. 
He’s been well brought up.” 

“ I’m sorry, I don’t follow.” 

“ You should have seen him t earin’ out of the 
room directly he saw you; I believe he was blush- 
in’.” 

“ To my better understanding,” said Winnie, 
drinking a cup of coffee; “ for I haven’t caught 
your drift.” 

“ Come, now, you can’t want better under- 
standin’s than you’ve got,” he said tenderly, look- 
ing at her stockings; “ never you mind ’em, Mrs. 
Edwards: you couldn’t have chosen a dress that 
suited you better.” 

“ A doubtful compliment, perhaps.” 


MY LIFE! 


267 


For the next few minutes, during a brisk ex- 
change of follies, she told herself that her dress 
had done its perfect and appointed work more 
swiftly and surely than she had hoped, and that 
she should rejoice at it — when she did not feel 
so absolutely heart-sick. 

When Gilmour realized that as a beginning 
of all his coldly courteous behaviour to Mrs. Ed- 
wards he had forgotten to claim a promised 
dance, he thought of feigning illness, and leaving 
at once. But fear of self-betrayal, and another 
feeling that he did not specify, prevented this. 
He went in search of Winnie, and found her talk- 
ing to Captain Luttrell, who was in paroxysms 
of foolish laughter. She hardly noticed his grim 
apologies. 

Oh yes, never mind; I promised you this 
one too, and I want to dance it, for it’s the 
Coster Lancers, and I love them. We must go 
and get my pitchfork first — I can’t dance with- 
out my pitchfork — and then we’ll find a cheery 
vis-d-vis'' 

She romped through the Lancers like a riot- 
ous child, “ doing steps ” with great conscien- 
tiousness, curtsying till her short skirts were bil- 
lowed upon the ground, and making much play 
with her pitchfork. During the first round of 
the grand chain she offered Gilmour the handle 
of this weapon, and as he refused to take it, the 
remaining three times she merely menaced him 
with the prongs in passing, while her face ex- 
pressed a glee that was well-nigh impish. Sen- 


268 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


tences from a fairy-story, read long ago, and for- 
gotten for many years, rang through her head the 
while, like the haunting burden of a weary tune: 
'''You shall have your way, but it will bring 
you to sorrow, my pretty Princess,’ said the Sea- 
witch. . . . ' No dancer will tread more lightly, 
but at every step you will feel as though you were 
treading on sharp knives, and the blood will flow. 
. . . And the Sea-maid glided over the floor, 
dancing as no one had ever danced before, though 
at every step it seemed to her that she trod on 
sharp knives. But the Sea-maid suffered in her 
endeavour to win the Prince’s love, while her 
task was to lose the love of her Prince, and his 
expression made her think that she had succeed- 
ed with fatal easiness.’ 'You shall have your 
way, but it will bring you to sorrow, my pretty 
Princess.’ ” Again those words! How absurd 
it was of her to think of them! She shrieked a 
hasty pleasantry to the " Pompadour ” in the 
next set, and hoped devoutly that she was smil- 
ing properly, and that people were deceived. To 
herself it only seemed that she was lengthening 
her mouth. 

" It is a very pretty sight,” said Gilmour, lead- 
ing her to the nearest seat. 

" What is, this? ” she asked, kicking forward 
a diamond-decked little foot. 

" I mean the ballroom.” 

" The decorations are charming, the floor ir- 
reproachable, the hosts indefatigable, and there 
must be a very large number of people here to- 


night. Is there any other suitable commonplace 
that I have forgotten? ” 

“ I must apologize for not being more amus- 
ing/’ said Gilmour grimly. 

'' I will try and overlook it for once.” 

There was a pause, broken by a familiar air 
from the band: 

“ Oh, the roast beef of Old England, 

And, oh, the Old English roast beef ! ” 

I think you were good enough to say I 
might take you in to supper,” he said, rising 
promptly. 

'' Please leave me here, and find a hungry lady; 
I want nothing to eat or drink.” 

Her voice was wearier than she knew, and he 
fancied that without her rouge she would be 
ghastly pale. 

Come out of this stuffy room; you will feel 
better in a cooler place.” 

She obeyed silently, leaving her pitchfork be- 
hind her. His veranda, which was, indeed, only 
a canvas-screened balcony, was still empty. Win- 
nie furled her wings, and sank into the largest 
chair. 

“ You have been doing too much. What is 
the good of wearing yourself out over this sense- 
less frivolity? ” he said roughly. 

'' But it amuses me.” 

“ I don’t call that an excuse. Of course, it’s 
very impertinent of me to talk in this way — I 
have not the slightest right to question the wis- 


270 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


dom of your actions — but I do wish you could 
take your amusements a little more easily.’^ 

“ ‘ The gay, the gay, the glittering scene. 

The halls, the halls of dazzling light ! ’ 

observed Winnie. 

“ Do be serious for a few minutes. I dare 
say you are accustomed to a life that is much 
fuller and more engrossing than anything you 
can find here; but, still, you go out constantly, 
and I can’t help fearing you are overtaxing your 
strength.” 

“ In this tropical climate? ” 

“ You are laughing at me; but many people 
find the hills trying, and you do not look strong.” 

I suffer from excess of nervous energy,” 
said Winnie sadly; “ and the worst of it is that it 
carries you much further than you can go, and 
then you’ve got to come back again. Twice over 
unnecessary ground; it’s too fatiguing.” 

He refused to smile, and went on doggedly: 

“ I know that you will make fun of anything 
I say, but that does not alter the fact that it is 
very easy to overdo one’s self in India.” 

“ Do you know that you would have made a 
delightful doctor? Your voice has just that nice 
tinge of medicated sympathy. Wouldn’t you like 
to feel my pulse? ” 

She held out a narrow black hand, garnished 
with golden claws. He did not touch it. 

“ You have not told me how you like my 
dress yet,” she went on recklessly, “ and it is all 
my own invention, like the White Knight’s pud- 


MY LIFE! 


271 


ding.” She sat up and clicked the spring that re- 
leased her wings. “ Look! isn’t that ingenious? ” 

“ I detest it,” he replied, all that he had least 
meant to say coming in a sudden torrent. “ I 
never dreamt that you were capable of wearing 
such a dress. I thought you sweet and tender 
and womanly at heart, in spite of your small fol- 
lies. I’m not a boy; I can’t understand how I 
have been deceived for so long. I know better 
now. You have certainly taken no pains to keep 
up the illusion. I suppose I ought to thank you 
for this, but I can’t just now; it hurts too much.” 

He had risen and stood near her. She was 
looking down, and he could only see her gleam- 
ing hair and the horrible little black horns. 

It’s the cruellest trick of fate that I should 
have been heart-free all my life, only to find my- 
self in love with you now,” he went on vehement- 
ly. “ What does it matter to you? I am a fool 
to talk like that; I only do it because I am so 
angry, so disgusted. My love gives me the right 
to speak plainly for this once. It’s bitterer than 
death for me to see you making a laughing-stock 
of yourself — a target for ridicule and slander. 
Ah, my dear, for all your assumption of worldly 
knowledge, you do not know, how easily a wom- 
an’s name is breathed upon.” 

She looked up as his voice grew tender. He 
saw that her gray eyes swam in tears, and the 
one glance quenched the fire of his anger. 

“ I have hurt you — I, who would give my life 
to keep every shadow of trouble away from you. 


272 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


Winnie, forgive me! Don’t cry; I can’t bear it. 
For pity’s sake forget all that I have said; my 
very bitterness showed my love for you. I was^ 
a brute to think hardly of you for a minute. You 
will never find a man who loves you better. 
Haven’t you a word for me? ” 

He held one of her clawed hands, and the 
arm he put around her was hindered by the black 
wings. The swaying, circling measure of a waltz 
floated out to them — a stream of music with a 
surface of gaiety and an undercurrent of piercing 
pathos. He recognised it as a fitting accompani- 
ment to his wooing. 

I ought not to have allowed you to speak 
like this,” she whispered; “you are saying more 
than you mean. Let me go. We will forget these 
last few minutes and be good friends again to- 
morrow.” 

“ I shall not forget, and I will never be merely 
your ‘ good friend ’ as long as I live. It must 
be all or nothing for me now. Will you be my 
wife? ” 

For a moment she allowed herself to realize 
the delight of his words, the happiness of his 
touch, then she drew her hand away with a thin 
echo of her usual laugh. 

“ You are a rash and reckless creature. You 
know nothing about me, and yet you ask me to 
marry you.” 

“ Don’t make a jest of it. I know that I love 
you as I never imagined that I could love a wom- 
an, and that is enough for me.” 


MY LIFE! 


273 


“ Whether I am worthy of your love or not? ” 

“ Darling, don’t play with me; I am abso- 
lutely in earnest.” 

“ And I was never more so, Major Gilmour.” 

I have guessed, of course, that your mar- 
riage was not a happy one,” he said slowly; “ and 
you don’t know how sorry I have been that you 
never felt yourself able to tell me one word of 
your past. But all that is over, and the present 
is our own. For God’s sake, don’t let a memory 
overshadow the rest of your life! ” 

“ Please say no more.” She rose and faced 
him. “ What you ask is impossible, and I blame 
myself bitterly for having listened so long. I 
ought to have spared you the pain.” 

Tell me one thing,” he said slowly: “ is there 
any difficulty — any man who has the faintest 
right to stand between you and me? ” 

The truth leaped to her lips. 

“ Oh no, no! it’s not that.” 

“ What is it, then? Tell me, Winnie — tell 
me!” 

“I can’t; I wanted to spare you this,” she 
repeated. 

“ It would have been kinder of you, certainly, 
since you care nothing for me,” he said, watching 
her intently. 

She flung out her hands with a little cry. 

“Care nothing for you! It would be easy 
enough if I did not.” 

She was in his arms before she realized the 
extent of her confession. 


274 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


“ You own it? Ah, darling! And you think 
I can let you go after that? ” 

For the moment Winnie yielded; her head 
was on his shoulder, and one of the dreadful little 
horns nearly went into his eye; then she wrenched 
herself away. 

“ I am trying to do what is right,” she said; 
“ don’t make it harder for me.” 

“ But I refuse to acknowledge this invisible 
barrier.” 

“ I can say no more, and, oh ! I am so tired. 
Let me go home.” 

“ Will you promise first to see me to-morrow, 
and tell me what you mean? ” 

“ Believe me, it would be better for you to 
take my answer now.” 

“ I cannot take that answer. May I come 
to-morrow at ten o’clock? will you promise to 
see me then? ” 

“ Yes, I promise; let me go home now.” She 
spoke with half-closed eyes. 

“You are almost fainting; I’ll go and find 
Miss Rosslyn.” 

“ Indeed you shan’t,” said Winnie, struggling 
to return to her usual manner. You may get 
^me my rickshaw, and after you have put me in 
it, tell Miss Rosslyn that I have gone, and that 
I particularly don’t wish her to leave early.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


“ so THOU BUT LOVE ME WITH A PERFECT HEART.” 

“ Not blind, but full of god-like eyes. 

That pierce through shows of good and ill, 

To the true spirit’s mysteries.” 

Fulford. 

Janet received the message with the docile 
surprise that was her usual attitude of mind on 
any matter that concerned Winnie, and applied 
herself conscientiously to the evening’s amuse- 
ment. She was enjoying a little triumph, and, 
simple and sober young woman though she was, 
she found it sweet. Never before had she so 
nearly attained to beauty, and people told her 
so in prettier phrases than those employed by 
Mrs. Tykes. She danced steadily through the 
programme for the first time in her life; and it 
was with a sense of worldly wisdom and added 
experience that she came home, under the guard- 
ianship of Mrs. Tykes, at the wee small hours. 
Mr. Roseway had evinced a desire to walk be- 
side her rickshaw, but this she forbade absolutely, 
from a conviction that Will would not approve 
of it. 

Winnie’s voice called her as she went stealth- 


275 


276 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


ily Upstairs. Every trace of the demon costume 
had vanished. Winnie wore a white woollen dress- 
ing-gown, and her face was ravaged by tears. 

Oh, my dear, I hoped you would be asleep. 
You will make yourself quite ill.” 

“ It was no good trying to sleep; I am calm- 
ing down now. Janet, what am I to do? He 
has asked me to marry him.” 

Janet had no need to ask who “ he ” might be. 

Winnie darling, I am so delighted! He is 
not half good enough for you — nobody is — but, 
still ” 

'' Fancy his taking me seriously! Why, I am 
an Elle-woman, all front and no back, or the 
original hollow heart that wore a mask ’twill 
break your own to see! ” 

“ Winnie, don’t laugh so; you frighten me. 
Let me get you some sal volatile; I know you 
are tired out.” 

“ Nonsense! I want nothing but good advice. 
Counsel me, comfort me! He is coming to-mor- 
row for his refusal; he would not take it to- 
night.” 

“ But why must you refuse him? ” 

“ Do you wish me to carry on the fraud 
permanently? It would be a little difficult. How 
am I to obtain a Daisy, for instance? On the 
hire-purchase system? ” 

“ Listen, dear,” said Janet, holding the rest- 
less hands; “ when he comes to-morrow, tell him 
the whole plain, simple truth, and I do believe it 
will all end happily.” 


so THOU BUT LOVE ME. 


277 


End happily, you ridiculous girl! How am 
I to tell him? Am I to meet him to-morrow, and 
say, ‘ Please, sir. Pm not a widow; I’m a spinster 
in a wig, who has been making fools of you all ’? 
No, no! Let me play out the farce to the bitter 
end.” 

“ I call that cruel; he loves you, and there- 
fore he has the right to know the truth and judge 
for himself. I believe he will be glad that you are 
not a widow,” said Janet resolutely. 

“ He will be too disgusted with me ever to 
speak to me again,” said Winnie, hiding her face. 

“ No, he won’t — indeed he won’t; I’ve seen 
the way he looks at you.” 

“ But how am I to tell him? how am I to 
open the subject? Once upon a time there was 
a little girl called Madeline Norton. I shall have 
to begin from the time when I was ten years old. 
It will be like an old-fashioned play: two chairs 
front; the heroine relates the story of her life in 
one speech of three pages and a half. I can’t — 
I can’t!” 

“ Tell him at the first glance, by simply being 
yourself, and not ‘ Mrs. Edwards ’ at all,” cried 
Janet, with a sudden inspiration. “ You know I 
always think you look ever so much prettier with 
your own hair.” 

There was a long silence. Winnie sat looking 
into the fire. 

“ It would have the merit of getting it over 
quickly,” she said at last; “ and I know I can trust 
him to keep my secret. Janet, I believe you are 


278 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


right, and that will be the best way, though I 
wish I was ten feet under ground. ’’ 

“ It will be so nice if we are both married on 
the same day,” said Janet cosily. 

“ My dear, what madness! ” said Winnie, her 
pale cheeks suddenly flaming. 

But why is it madness? for I can’t help 
thinking that you — well, that you feel for him as 
I do for Will.” 

“ Don’t think anything about my feelings, 
and I mustn’t, either. If he forgives my decep- 
tion and keeps my secret, it is the best I can hope 
for. Oh, my poor little mystery! how I hate the 
thought of confessing it, and to him of all people! 
Well, I am being punished for my folly, and I will 
be a pattern of dull prudence all the rest of my 
gray days. Good-night, dear; no. I’m not going 
to cry any more, but I feel exactly like that 
American road, which began with triumphal 
arches and ended up a tree.” 

Gilmour meanwhile, rich in the possession of 
one slender black glove with golden claws, was 
happily certain that he should conquer any fanci- 
ful fears and scruples with which she might op- 
pose him. His own doubts had vanished after 
her confession, and he looked back on his bygone 
vacillation with wondering pity. He loved her 
and she loved him — ah, the sweetness of that 
thought! — and the world was all before them to 
be happy in. 

She would probably prefer to be married in 
England. He could take six months’ leave in the 


so THOU BUT LOVE ME. 


279 


spring, and they would come out together in the 
autumn. His Indian tour of service would be 
over in four years — it was fortunate that she liked 
the country — and they would return to England 
for good before Daisy was ten years old. Con- 
found — bless the child! She was doubtless a 
sweet and winsome little creature, very like her 
mother, and when he knew her he should be very 

fond of her; but, still Perhaps her father’s 

people would claim a great deal of her company; 

but, still Then a memory of Winnie’s eyes 

came as a good-night blessing. 

He woke late, and his first thought was of 
Daisy. He owned that he was becoming ridicu- 
lously morbid about the poor child; but only time 
could reconcile him to the thought of her, and 
perhaps even time would fail. But meanwhile he 
was going to see Winnie, and that was a joy to 
drive out every fancied trouble. 

Her drawing-room seemed to be empty, but 
as the bearer shut the door, a dark-haired girl 
came out of the pink muslin room. She was sim- 
ply dressed in gray, with a white Puritan cape; 
her wavy hair was drawn softly away from a 
pretty forehead, and her pale cheeks flushed as he 
looked at her. For a moment he was puzzled, 
and then he recognised the dear gray eyes, 
though only once before had he seen them so 
melancholy and so tear-tinged. 

Winnie — it is Winnie? ” he said. 

“ My name is Madeline Norton,” said the 
dark-haired girl, in the voice that was his music. 


28 o 


•A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


‘‘ But it is you.” And he grasped her hands 
as though he feared the changed woman would 
vanish out of his sight. “ Tell me what this 
means.” 

“ It means that I am a cheat, a fraud, a hum- 
bug,” she said bluntly; and her fingers writhed 
in his strong clasp. ^ 

“ I thought your hair was dark, really,” he 
said. 

“ Oh, my hair doesn’t matter,” she cried; 
“ that’s a mere detail of the disguise, the de- 
ceit.” 

“ What deceit?” 

He was looking at her with a puzzled smile. 

“ Mine; I’ve been deceiving you and every- 
one else since the beginning of the season.” 

“ Tell me quickly, then. Do you mean that 
your husband is living, after all? ” 

“Living! why, he never existed; he was a 
make-believe,” she cried. 

He dropped her hands, and drew back, and 
though he only said, “ Oh, child! ” his face told 
his meaning too plainly. 

“ Let me go! ” she said. Her head swam, and 
she seemed to be groping in a darkness touched 
with points of fire. “ Don’t stop me! Let me 
go!” 

“ I can’t; I will not. Winnie, forgive me; I 
was too bewildered to know what to think.” He 
held her hands again. “ Tell me one thing: Were 
you deceiving me last night? ” 

She was silent, beating back the feeling of 


so THOU BUT LOVE ME. 


281 


faintness that tingled in her every vein, and seek- 
ing strength to tell this final lie. Things were 
not going as she had expected; she had missed 
her cue, and her carefully-prepared speeches were 
useless. She had been certain that the revelation 
of her disguise would disgust him absolutely, leav- 
ing her nothing to do but to ask his pardon and 
to say good-bye; yet he seemed to think that her 
feelings for him still mattered. She had meant 
to be so dignified, so distant, and now he held 
her hands close against his breast, and she told 
herself that, whatever happened, she must re- 
member not to hide her eyes on his shoulder. 
Only a minute before he had wounded her un- 
speakably; she still quivered under the sting of 
that suspicion, but she could not summon up the 
slightest touch of anger to her aid. 

‘‘ Winnie, you must tell me,” he repeated. 
‘‘ Do you love me? Is it ‘ Yes ’ or ‘ No '? ” 

“ My name is Madeline Norton. Let me go; 
you don’t understand.” 

“ I want to be sure of one thing before you 
tell me the rest. Is it ‘ Yes ’ or ‘ No ’? ” 

I’ve been playing a part, and deceiving you 
and tricking you,” she said. 

“.Were you playing a part last night? Tell 
me.” 

“ No, but ” 

The sentence was not finished, for she had 
hidden her eyes at last. 

“ I tried to prevent this,” she said, moving 
away after a moment; “ I did my best to show 
19 


282 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


you that I was outside the pale, that you were not 
to think seriously of me.” 

“We seem not to be talking the same lan- 
guage,” he said impatiently. “ Look at me. Do 
you mean to tell me that you have done anything 
disgraceful? ” 

“ Not disgraceful, exactly, but very foolish,” 
she said slowly. 

“That’s all right; and now I want the clue 
to the mystery.” He took her left hand. “ Win- 
nie, where is your wedding-ring? ” 

“ I haven’t got one. There is a broad gold 
ring upstairs which I bought for myself, but that 
is all.” 

She looked at him with the eyes of pure inno- 
cence. 

“ Why did you pretend to be a widow, then? ” 
he asked. 

“ For fun,” she said, with a little sob. 

“ Winnie, tell me the whole story at once. 
How came you to be masquerading in this way? ” 

“ It’s so long I don’t know where to begin,” 
she said helplessly. 

“ Sit down and begin at the beginning. When 
did you first call yourself Mrs. Edwards? ” 

“ Only in the spring when I came out here.” 

“ And what made you come to India? ” 

“ Because I was here two years ago as an 
elderly, ugly girl, and I disliked everything, and 
made myself disagreeable to everyone. The lady 
I stayed with was very kind, but she wanted me 
to marry, and I made up my mind that no one 


so THOU BUT LOVE ME. 


283 


should think I wanted to marry. Ask Mrs. Tykes 
what she remembers about Madeline Norton.” 

“ ril take your word, not hers. What hap- 
pened then? ” 

I went home at the end of the season; and, 
oh, Alan! if you had ever known Mrs. Cotes- 
worth — Aunt Agatha, whom I used to live with 
— I think you would be able to forgive what you 
are sure now to think very wrong and heart- 
less.” 

‘‘ Am I very unforgiving, darling? But where 
does Mrs. Edwards come in? ” 

“ Quite soon. I was on my way home, when 
I heard of my aunt’s death, and, strangely enough, 
she left me all she had. I was rich — or, at least, 
I felt rich, for she had never allowed me more 
than five shillings a week for pocket-money.” 

“ How old are you? ” he said suddenly. 

“ I shall be thirty-one next month.” 

And I am thirty-eight. But do explain the 
appearance of Mrs. Edwards.” 

“ It’s very hard to explain, for it sounds ut- 
terly heartless, and you can’t understand how 
strong the temptation was. Suppose you had 
never had any real freedom or happiness in more 
than ten years! My good days were done 
when I left school. I had a perfectly happy 
childhood, but my parents died within five days 
of each other when I was quite small. My father 
had diphtheria, and mother caught it nursing 
him; and after that there was nothing in the 
world for me but school and Aunt Agatha. I 


284 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


rather liked school, but how I used to dread the 
holidays! ” 

“ Winnie, you are not to cry.” 

“ No, I won’t, but I should like to. Well, I 
went home, and did nothing but think. One day 
I felt heart-broken with remorse for having left 
Aunt Agatha, and the next I almost hated her 
for having made my life a bitterness for so long. 
I could interest myself in nothing; I could settle 
to nothing. I hated the house, and I could not 
bear the walks and drives round it, and there 
was a doctor who had wanted to marry me be- 
fore, and he ” 

Confound his impertinence I And what did 
he do? ” 

‘‘ He was faithful — at least, that is what he said 
he was — I called him insolent; and it struck me 
one Sunday afternoon, when worldly thoughts 
are most rampant ” — and a glimmer of her old 
smile shone through her wet eyes — that if I 
came out here as a wealthy, tinselled somebody 
else, I might escape my unhappiness for a few 
months.” 

“ You were a little audacious.” 

“ I was indeed; I see it, looking back; but 
though I hardly expect you to believe me, I only 
realized a few minutes ago the full depths of 
misconstruction to which I was rendering myself 
liable.” 

''Ah, darling, can’t you forget what I only 
thought in a moment of utter bewilder- 
ment?” 


so THOU BUT LOVE ME. 285 

“ You see, I did not think — I did not under- 
stand.” 

“ But, Winnie, I cannot see how it was pos- 
sible to keep your plan a secret.” 

It was not difficult. I had very few friends, 
thanks to Aunt Agatha, and I did nothing hastily: 
I thought out every detail for more than six 
months. I have a full account of my past life, 
and a description of Mr. Edwards’ personal ap- 
pearance and character, written out at great 
length. It is locked away upstairs; you shall see 
it if you like.” 

“ But it is impossible that no one here should 
have recognised you.” 

If they have, they have kindly kept it se- 
cret. You don’t know how quiet and retiring 
Madeline was; her fear of Mrs. Haymont’s match- 
making powers led her to efface herself very ef- 
fectually.” 

“ It sounds absurd and impossible.” 

Yes, it is one of the many absurd and impos- 
sible things that happen constantly. People here 
have changed almost entirely since Madeline’s 
time, remember, and she knew very few.” 

But how did you persuade Miss Rosslyn to 
join you? She looks the very personification of 
simple directness.” 

So she is, but she has the habit of doing 
whatever I ask, and her health had nearly broken 
down from the strain of being nursery governess 
in a very large and very disagreeable family. She 
left them last December, and it took a whole 


286 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


month to shape her to my ends. Then we told 
all whom it least concerned that we were going 
on the Continent, and we spent two months in 
London making preparations; and a steamer 
from Brindisi in March did the rest.” 

“ I see; but a number of trifles puzzle me 
still: how did you hide all your pretty hair? ” 
Wigs — special wigs. They make them so 
cleverly now. It was a little uncomfortable at 
first to have my own hair tightly twisted up un- 
derneath, but I could not dye it even for the sake 
of Mrs. Edwards. I was obliged to have just a 
touch of dye on each side, though. Do you see 
a wicked little red streak by my ear? ” 

“ Most unpardonable,” he said, laughing. 

“ Nobody knows except Janet,” went on 
Winnie, for Nugent came to me after the wigs 
and the rouge and the new name.” 

But your diamonds, Winnie,” he said, stung 
by a sudden thought; did they belong to your 
aunt? They must have cost something fabu- 
lous.” 

“ I have the bills somewhere; they were 
rather expensive, for I went to good places, and 
the settings are real. The stones are imitation, 
of course.” 

“ Thank goodness! It used to be as much as 
I could bear to see you in all those glittering 
things, and think that I could never afford to 
give you anything one-tenth part as valuable.” 

Do you remember the bangles you disliked 
so much the very first time we met? They hap- 


so THOU BUT LOVE ME. 


287 


pen to be the only bits of my jewellery that are 
real. I was pleased with the pretty silly things, 
and had some fanciful ones made.^’ 

Yes, indeed, I have not forgotten that 
night; and you are very much prettier without 
powder on your nose. How did you get hold of 
the picture you called Daisy's; it’s very like you.” 

“ It is my portrait — me myself, many many 
years ago. I had it cleaned and put into a big 
modern frame, and the funny old frock passes 
muster as a new idea.” 

“ Dear little soul! ” he said cheerfully; “ how 
I used to hate her! ” 

“ Did you; why? ” 

“ Can’t you guess? Oh, Winnie, you don’t 
know how sweet you must be to me to make up 
for all the misery you’ve inflicted.” 

“These be compliments!” 

“ Yes, the thought of Daisy and old Edwards 
was like poison. What made you choose that 
name? ” 

“ Because it had nothing whatever to do with 
me, and it was neither distinguished nor common 
— merely ordinary; no other reason.” 

Her voice was bright again, though her eyes 
still told of last night’s waking and weeping; her 
^ face, freed from its unnatural colouring, looked 
very young and pure and winsome. 

“ How did you mean your play to end, sweet- 
heart? ” 

“ In the style of the modern drama; a slow 
curtain, and nothing explained. I meant to have 


288 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


a year of folly, and go home as Mrs. Edwards; 
then Mrs. Edwards would have left one lodging 
in London, and Miss Norton would have taken 
another; exactly what happened, contrariwise, 
when I came out.” 

What fools people must have been when 
you were here the first time! ” he said tenderly. 

“They were not, indeed; I was a dour, sour 
creature then, and, oh, so badly dressed! Here is 
a photograph of that period which I got out to 
show you.” 

“ This can’t be you; why, your hair is dragged 
back like Mrs. Tykes’, and your figure looks ab- 
solutely different.” 

“ ‘ This is her picture as she was ; 

It seems a thing to wonder on,” 

said Winnie. “ You see, Mrs. Edwards has taught 
me how to dress and how not to do my hair. 
You men seldom realize how these trifles change 
women.” 

His mind was still filled with questions, though 
his heart was at rest. 

“ How did you teach Miss Rosslyn to call 
you ‘ Winnie ’? I should have thought that she 
would slip back to ‘ Madeline ’ twenty times a 
day.” 

“She always calls me ‘Winnie’; it’s a pet 
name that dates from our very early days. We 
read a tender little story by Mrs. Molesworth 
about a Winnie who died, and I was re- 
named.” 


so THOU BUT LOVE ME. 289 

‘‘ How simple your tangled web is when you 
come to explain it ! ” 

“ I am afraid you can hardly understand the 
temptation that made me weave it; it seems so 
trivial now, but it was a most urgent need then.” 

“ Yes, I do understand, darling; but when 
will you marry me? That’s the most important 
thing to talk of now.” 

Her face grew grave. 

“ There is a great deal that is not changed,” 
she said; everyone here knows me as a painted 
person, whose hair is in strict accordance with the 
latest fashion, and I must keep up the disguise 
till I go home. I used to enjoy the idea that 
most people thought me much worse than I really 
was, but it stings now. That is not the sort of 
woman you ought to marry.” 

“ You are the one woman I have ever wanted 
to marry; I love you with all my heart, and I am 
not a boy, remember. Winnie, you mustn’t be 
morbid.” 

“ It’s the trail of Aunt Agatha, Alan. Yes, I 
own that I have thought of you as ‘ Alan ’ for 
ages; see how naturally I use the name. It 
seems to me that between Winnie and Madeline 
you have a very sorry choice. You thought I 
was a rather vulgar widow, and I proved to be 
a soured old maid. I’m sorry for you.” 

He answered without words. 

“ But, Alan, I mean it ; you ought to marry 
a girl like Nancy.” 

Ought I? She is a pretty creature, but you 


290 


A PINCHBECK GODDESS. 


are you, and there is no one like you. Winnie, 
you are never to talk like this again — do you 
hear? I won’t have it.” 

“ How now? orders? I would have you to 
know that nobody has spoken authoritatively to 
me for nearly two years.” 

“ Then, the sooner I begin, the better. Shall 
you be very angry, I wonder, darling, if I ask you 
one thing? ” 

I think not; try.” 

“ It’s nothing; only Strath-Ingram was so 
much with you, and I’ve known him for years: 
used he — did he — I mean, did you ever let him 
kiss you? ” 

For a moment Winnie bent silently beneath 
the lash of her punishment; then she raised her 
head and smiled. 

“ No, never, but I kissed him once — and it 
was like Dian’s kiss, unasked, unsought.” 

What do you mean? ” 

Then she told a tale. 

Poor old chap ! ” said Gilmour complacently. 

That was it, then. Winnie, I wish to Heaven 
I’d been up here two seasons ago.” 

It would have made no difference; you 
would not have looked at me. No protesting; 
I’m sure you wouldn’t! Say what you like, you 
were attracted at first by the tinsel and the span- 
gles — the Pinchbeck Goddess, in short.” 

“ I loved you in spite of the tinsel, darling.” 

Perhaps, but it attracted you at first.” 

‘'No; the love came in spite of it.” 


so THOU BUT LOVE ME. 


291 


‘‘ Believe me, it attracted you, to begin with.’’ 

Never! I hated it, but loved its wearer.” 

Scissors! ” said Winnie. 

One of the doors into the veranda creaked, as 
a strong shoulder pushed it,. and Cripps entered 
cannily through a narrow opening. He had been 
scratching and moaning unnoticed outside for 
some time, and he was naturally displeased. 
Standing in the middle of the room, he eyed 
Winnie and Gilmour severely; their past con- 
duct and present position needed explanation. 

“ It’s all right, Cripps,” said Gilmour; ‘‘ come 
and congratulate me, old boy.” 

Cripps was puzzled; it was a little difficult to 
express jealous affection and cordial good-fellow- 
ship at the same moment. But Gilmour’s voice 
was irresistible; jumping on Winnie’s knee, he 
proffered a paw to her near neighbour. 

“ The master of the house gives his consent,” 
said Winnie. 


THE END. 



V 


APPLETONS’ TOWN AND COUNTRY LIBRARY. 

PUBLISHED SEMIMONTHLY. 


1. The Sted Hammer. By Louis Ulbach. 

2. Eve. A Novel. By S. Baring-Goulb. 

3. For Fifteen Years. A Sequel to The Steel Hammer. By Louis XJlbach. 

. A. A Counsel of Perfection. A Novel. By Lucas Malet. 

5. The Deemder. A Romance. By Hall Caxne. 

5L The Bondman. (New edition.) By Hall Cainb. 

6. A Virginia Inheritance. By Edmund Pendleton. 

7. Ninette : An Idyll of Provence. By the author of V6ra. 

8. “ The Right Honourable." By Justin McCarthy and Mrs. Campbell-Praed. 

9. 'The Silence of Dean Maitland. By Maxwell Gray. 

10. Mrs. Lerrimer : A Study in Black and White. By Lucas Malet. 

11. The Elect Lady. By George MacDonald. 

12. The Mystery of the “ Ocean Star." By W. Clark Russell. 

13. Aristocracy. A Novel. 

14. A Recoiling Vengeance. By Frank Barrett. With Illustrations. 

15. The Secret of Fontaine-la- Croix. By Margaret Field. 

16. The Master of Ralhkelly. By Hawley Smart. 

17. Donovan : A Modern Englishman. By Edna Lyall. 

18. This Mortal Coil. By Grant Allen. s. 

19. A Fair Emigrant. By Rosa Mulholland. 

20. The Apostate. By Ernest Daudet. 

21. Raleigh Westgate ; or, Epimenides in Maine. By Helen Kendrick Johnson. 
Arius the Libyan. A Romance of the Primitive Church. 

Constance, and Calbot's Rival. By Julian Hawthorne. 

24. We Two. By Edna Lyall. 

25. A Dreamer of Dreams. By the author of Thoth. 

26. The Ladies"' Gallery. By Justin McCarthy and Mrs. Campbell-Praed. 

27. The Reproach of Annesley. By Maxwell Gray. 

28. Near to Happiness. » 

29. In the Wire Orcws. By Louis Pendleton. 

30. Lace. A Berlin Romance, By Paul Llndau. 

30^. The Black Poodle. By F. Anstey. 

31. American Coin. A Novel. By the author of Aristocracy, 

32. Won by Waiting. By Edna Lyall. 

33. The Story of Helen Davenant. By Violet Fane. 

34. The Light of Her Countenance. By H. H. Boyesen. 

35. Mistress Beatrice Cope. My M. E. Le Clerc. 

36. The Knight-Errant. By Edna Lyall. 

37. In the Golden Days. By Edna Lyall. 

38. Giraldi ; or, The Curse of Love. By Ross George Dering. 

39. A Hardy Norseman. By Edna Lyall. 

40. The Romance of Jenny Harlowe, and Sketches of Maritime Life. By W. 

Clark Russell. 

41. Passion"' 8 Slave. By Richard Ashe -King. 

42. The Awakening of Mary Femvick. By Beatrice Whitby. 

43. Countess Loreley. Translated from the German of Rudolf Menger. 

44. Blind Love. By Wilkie Collins. 

45. The Demis Daughter. By Sophie F. F. Veitch. 

46. Countess Irene. A Romance of Austrian Life. By J. Fogerty. 

47. Robert Brownina's Principal Shorter Poems. 

48. Frozen Hearts. By G. Webb Appleton. 

49. Djarnbek the Georgian. By A. G. von Suttner. 

50. The Craze^ Christian Engelhart. By Henry Faulkner Darnell. 

51. Lai. By William A. Hammond, M. D. 

52. Aline. A Novel. By Henry Greville. 

53. Joost Avelingh. A Dutch Story. By Maarten Maartens. 

54. Katy of Catoctin. By George Alfred Townsend. 

55. Throckmorton. A Novel. By Molly Elliot Sea well. 

56. Expatriation. By the author of Aristocracy. 

67. Geoffrey Hampstead. By T. S. Jarvis. 


APPLETONS’ TOWN AND COUNTRY l^IBRKRY.— {Continued.) 


58. Dmitri. A Romance of Old Russia. By F. W. Bain, M. A. 

59 Part of the Property. By Beatrice Whitby. 

60. Bismarck in PrUxite Life. By a Fellow-Student. 

а. In Low Relief . By Morlkt Roberts. 

62. The Canadians of Old. A Historical Romance. By Philippe Gaspk. 

63. A Squire of Low Degree. By Lii.t A. Long. 

64. A Fluttered Dovecote. By George Manville Fenn. 

б. 5. The Nugents of Carriconna. An Iiish Story. By Tighe Hopkins. 

66. A Sensitive Plant. By E. and D. Gerard. 

67. Dcma Luz. By Juan Valera. Tianslated by Mrs. Mary J. Serrano. 

68. Pepita Ximenez. By Juan Valera. Translated by Mrs. Mary J. Serrano. 

69. The Primes and their Neighboi's. By Richard Malcolm Johnston. 

70. The Iron Game. By Henry F. Keenan. 

71. Stories of Old New Spain. By Thomas A. Janvier. 

72. The Maid of Honor. By Hon. Lewis Wingfield. 

73. In the Heart of the Storm. By Maxwell Gray. 

74. Consequences. By Egerton Castle. 

75. The Three Miss Kings. By Ada Cambridge. 

76. A Matter of Skill. By Beatrice Whitby. 

77. Maid Marian., and Other Stories. By Molly Elliot Seawell. 

78. One Woman's Way. By Edmund Pendleton. 

79. A Mert'ciful Divorce. By F. W. Maude. 

80. Stephen EUicott's Daughter. By Mrs. J. H. Needell. 

81. One Reason Why. By Beatrice Whitby. 

82. The Tragedy of Ida Noble. By W. Clark Russell. 

83. The Johnstown Stage., and other Stories. By Robert H. Fletcher. 

84. A Widower Indeed. By Rhoda Broughton and Elu^abeth Bisland. 

85. The Flight of a Shadow. By George MacDonald. 

86. Love O )' Money. By Katharine Lee. 

87. Not AU in Vain. By Ada Cambridge. 

88. It Happened Yesterday. By Frederick Marshall. 

89. My Guardian. By Ada Cambridge. 

90. The Story of Philip Methuen. By Mrs. J. H. Needell. 

91. Amethyst : The Story of a Beauty. By Christabel R. Coleridge. 

92. Don Braulio. By Juan Valera. Translated by Clara Bell. 

93. The Chronicles of Mr. Bill B Uliams. By Richard Malcolm Johnston. 

94. A Queen of Curds and Cream. By Dorothea Gerard. 

95. “ La Bella " and Others. By Egerton Castle. 

96. “ December Roses." By Mrs. Campbell-Praeb. 

97. Jean de Kerdren. By Jeanne Schultz. 

98. Etelka's Vow. By Dorothea Gerard. 

99. Cross Currents. By Mary A. Dickens. 

100. His Life's Magnet. By Theodora Elmslie. 

101. Passing the Love of Women. By Mrs. J. H. Needell. 

102. In Old St. Stephen's. By .Jeanie Drake. 

103. The Berkeleys and their Neighbors. By Molly Elliot Seawell. 

104. Mona Maclean., Medical Student. By Graham Travbrs. 

105. Mrs. Bligh. By Rhoda Broughton. 

106. A Stumble on the Threshold. By James Payn. 

107. Hanging Moss. By Paul Lindau. 

108. A Comedy of Elopement. By Christian Reid. 

109. In the Suntime of her Youth. By Beatrice Whitby. 

110. Stories in Black and White. By Thomas Hardy and Others. 

IIOJ. An Englishman in Paris. Notes and Recollections. 

111. Commander Mendoza. By Juan Valera. 

112. Dr. Pauli's Theo^. By Mrs. A. M. Diehl. 

113. Children of Destiny. By Molly Elliot Seawell. 

114. A lAttle Hinx. By Ada Cambridge. 

11.5. Capt'n Davy's Honeymoon. By Hall Caine. 

116. The Voice of a Flower. By E. Gerard. 

117. Singularly Deluded. By Sarah Grand. 

118. Suspected. By Louisa Stratenus. 

119. I/uda^ Hughy and Another. By Mrs. J. H. Needell. 

120. The Tutor's Secret. By Victor Cherbuliez. 


APPLETONS’ TOWN AND COUNTRY LIBRARY.— 


121. From the Five Rivers. By Mrs. P. A. Steel. 

122. An Innocent Impostor., and Other Stories. By Maxwell Gray. 

123. Ideala. By Sarah Grand. 

124. * A Comedy of Masks. By Ern#st Dowson and Arthur Moore. 

125. Relics. By Frances MacNab. 

126. Dodo: A Detail of the Day. By E. F. Benson. 

127. A Woman of Forty. By Esme Stuart. 

128. Diana Temp^t. By Mary Cholmondeley. 

129. The Recipe for Diamonds. By C. J. Cutcliffe Hyne. 

130. Christina Chard. By Mrs. Campbell-Praed. 

131. A Gray Eye or So. By Frank Frankfort Moore. 

132. Earlscourt. By Alexander Allardyce. 

133. A Marriage Ceremony. By Ada Cambridge. 

134. A Ward in Chancery. By Mrs. Alexander. 

135. Lot 13. By Dorothea Gerard. 

136. Our ManiMd Nature. By Sarah Grand. 

137. A CosUy ^eak. By Maxwell Gray. 

138. A Beginner. By Rhoda Broughton. 

139. A TMow Aster. By Mrs. Mannington Caffyn (“ Iota”). 

140. The Rubicon. By E. F. Benson. 

141. The Trespasser. By Gilbert Parker. 

142. The Rich Miss Riddell. By Dorothea Gerard. 

143. Mary Fenwick's Daughter. By Eeatrice Whitby. 

144. Red Diamonds. By Justin McCarthy. 

145. A Daughter of Music. By G. Colmore. 

148. Outlaw and lAiwmaker. By Mrs. Campbell-Praed. 

147. Dr. Janet of Harley Street. By Arabella Kenealy. 

148. George MandeviUe^s Husband. By C. E. Raimond. 

149. Vashti and Esther. 

150. Timar's Two Worlds. By M. Jokai. 

151. A Victim of Good Luck. By W. E. Norris. 

152. The Trail of the Sword. By Gilbert Parker. 

153. A Mild Barbarian. By Edgar Fawcett. 

154. The God in the Car. By Anthony Hope. 

155. Children of Circumstance. By Mrs. M. Caffyn. 

156. At the Gate of Samaria. By William J. Locke. 

1.57. The Justification of Andrew Lebrun. By Frank Barrett. 

158. Dust and Laurels. By Mary L. Pendered. 

159. The Good Ship Mohock. By W. Clark Russell. 

160. Noemi. By S. Baring-Gould. 

161. The Honour of Savelli. By 8. Levett Yeats. 

162. Kitty's Engagement. By Florence Warden. 

163. The Mermaid. By L. Dougall. 

164. An Arranged Marriage. By Dorothea Gerard. 

165. Eve's Ransom. By George Gissing. 

166. The Marriage of Esther. By Guy Boothby. 

167. Fidelis. By Ada Cambridge. 

168. Into the Highways and Hedges. By F. F. Montresor. 

169. The Vengeance of James Vansittart. By Mrs. J. H. Needell. 

170. A Study in Prejudices. By George Paston. 

171. The. Mistress of Quest. By Adeline Sergeant. 

172. In the Year of Jubilee. By George Gissing. 

173. In Old New England. By Hezekiah Butterworth. 

174. Mrs. Musgrave — and Her Husband. By R. Marsh. 

175. Not Counting the Cost. By Tasma. 

176. Out of Due Season. By Adeline Sergeant. . 

177. Scylla or Charybdis f By Rhoda Broughton. 

178. In Defiance of the King. By C. C. Hotchkiss. 

179. A Bid for Fortune. By Guy Boothby. 

180. The Etng of Andaman. By J. Maclaren Cobban. 

181. Mrs. Tregaskiss. By Mrs. Campbell-Praed. 

182. The Denre of the Moth. By Capel Vane. 

183. A Self-Denying Ordinance. By M. Hamilton. 

184. Successors to the Title. By Mrs. L. B. Walford. 


APPLETONS’ TOWN AND COUNTRY lASRA'RY.—iCmtinued.) 


185. The Lost Stradivarius. By J. Meade Falkner. 

186. The Wrong Man. By Dorothea Gerard. 

187. In the Day of Adversity. By J. Bloundelle-Burton. 

188. Mistress Dorothy Marvin. ByJ. C. Snaith. 

189. A Flash of Summer. By Mrs. W. K. Clifford. 

190. The Dancer in Yellow. By W. E. Norris. 

191. The Chronides of Martin Hewitt. By Arthur Morrison. 

192. A Winning Hazard. By Mrs. Alexander. 

193. The Picture of Las Cruces. By Christian Reid. 

194. The Madonna of a Day. By L. Dougall. 

195. The Riddle Ring. By Justin McCarthy. 

136. A Humble Enterprise. By Ada Cambridge. 

197. Dr. Nikola. By Guy Boothby. 

198. An Outcast of the Islands. By Joseph Conrad. 

199. The King'‘s Revenge. By Claude Bray. 

200. Denounced. By J. Bloundelle-Burton. 

201. A Court Intrigue. By Basil Thompson. 

202. The Idol-Maker. By Adeline Sergeant. 

203. The Intriguers. By John D. Barry. 

204. Master Ardick., Buccaneer. By F. H. Costello. 

205. With Fortune Made. By Victor Chf.rbuliez. 

206. Fellow Travdlers. By Graham Travers. 

207. McLeod of the Camerons. By M. Hamilton. 

208. The Career of Candida. By George Paston. 

209. Arrested. By Esme Stuart. 

210. Tatterley. By T. Gallon, 


Each, 12ino, paper cover, 60 cents,* cloth, $l,00i 


GEORG EBERS’S ROMANCES. 

Each, 16mo, paper, 40 cents per volume / cloth, 75 cents. 
Sets of 24 volumes, cloth, in box, $18.00. 

In th.e Blue Pike. A Romance of German Life in the early Sixteenth Century. 

Translated by Mary J. Safford. 1 volume. 

In the Fire of the Forge. A Romance of Old Nuremberg. Translated by 
Mary J. Safford. 2 volumes. 

Cleopatra. Translated by Mary J. Safford. 2 volumes. 

A Thorny Path. (PerAspera.) Translated by Clara Bell. 2 volumes. 
An Egyptian Princess. Translated by Eleanor Grove. 2 volumes. 
XJarda. Translated by Clara Bell. 2 volumes. 

Homo Sum. Translated by Clara Bell. 1 volume. 

The Sisters. Translated by Clara Bell. 1 volume. 

A Q,uestion. Translated by Mary J. Safford. 1 volume. 

The Emperor. Translated by Clara Bell. 2 volumes. 

The Burgomaster’s Wife. Translated by Mary J. Safford. 1 volume. 
A Word, only a Word. Translated by Mary J. Safford. 1 volume. 
Serapis. Translated by Clara Bell. 1 volume. 

The Bride of the NUe. Translated by Clara Bell. 2 volumes. 

Margery. (Gred.) Translated by Clara Bell. 2 volumes. 

Joshua. Translated by Mary J. Safford. 1 volume. 

The Elixir, and Other Tales. Translated by Mrs. Edward H. Bell. 
With Portrait of the Author. 1 volume. 


For sale by all booksellers ; or sent by mail on receipt of price by the publishers, 

D, APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue, New York. 



A PINCHBECK GODDESS 



MRS. J. M. FLEMING 
(ALICE M. KIPLING) 


“ All with one consent praise new born gawds, 
Though they are made and moulded of things past, 
And give to dust that is a little gilt SSjaHESEIj? 
More laud than gilt o’er-dusted.” 

Shakespeare. 



NEW YORK 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 

1897 


I * K / - » * ^ • 

. r 



t 



















f 


\ 



» » 








« 


♦ 


\ 



9 


9 


( 


\ 


% 


% 




t 





. # 
I 




I 

I 


I 


A 

■S 

A 


» 


1 








« .0 O 



" o 0 
^ ® -cC^ 


^ o K. 0 ’ v'^'' 

^ v' ‘ 0 A 


rjwj® ^Al ° A' A ~- 


I> 

✓ 
y 

' <. 0 -' 

r- - ^ - <V. .A- 


‘D 


^ A 

^ 0 ^ 0 ^ -< 5 ^ - - ^ ^ . o. 









\. aV . ^ " •^- 

'V * z '■ ^ 

A ^ ^ 

A A 'VP*fs' A ■ '^=,*‘ 

, 0 V. -<^ '••' % 


^ '' J 

.-o”^ c"'- 

V--RS.W' V .-i 


\ 0 °^ 



•\V '^- ® \'/^S ' 



vO o 

\ 


\ * 0 




^ 8 1 ^’‘ 


A 

r* 

O 

i- /J'' 



^ V" ^ ^ 

r»J -f^ ^ » 

'•- -N 



o o' 

V * 

•o,'‘vTo’’ /■ 

N- “fitw y^ ^ ^j ^ - A ' 

V- ^ ✓ "*^*<0^ V 

^ o ^ V ^ "■ 




7^. ^ 


CD ^ 

• S' 

^ 4. 1^' 

o' 

-0' s ^ 

■‘bo'' =-"•;. 




t> <r 




i , \ ^ • V 

y ! ^ 

“ ci'b ^ 

* v/ " 

■ . ^ a’* 

\ V V *y « « I ' S *> <* / 

' A.y r*fey. : 

^ vA * A ■>>\ -y ^ 

y \ ry <t 

.^"‘‘'-'j^ ■■ " "" 

oO- 




J> •» 


0 s ^ 


•> 







